Flashlight
by 0ptimuspenguin
Summary: AU. "If I throw a tomato at you, vampire bastard, will you still sparkle under the sauce?" Spamano
1. tomatoes

**Disclaimer: Nope**

**A/N: **So, this was a requestfic from Kale Henderson :) that I crossover Twilight and APH in this manner. I changed a few of the character roles I got, though, because I thought it would flow more smoothly this way. I'm warning you, this is gonna have ROMANOOOOO as Bella, and SPAAAAIIN as Edward, so there'll be a lot of Spainward bashing.

**9-9-11 EDIT:** just running through this and NB, fixing continuity, grammar, character names, etc etc. it should fit more with the timeline I need and stuff, and you should be able to follow it cleanly now.

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Tomatoes**

Mom drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down.

I wanted to put them up. The September heat of Phoenix rolled into the car, hot wind hitting me like a brick to the face. "Are you stupid?" I scowled, picking at my nails. "It's ninety-fucking-four degrees." Next to me, Mom laughed and I rolled my eyes.

"You could use the fresh air, Lovino," he said with a smile, reaching over and ruffling my hair with perfectly kept nails. Yeah, my mother is a man, whom I assume has a dick; he and my dad, an ex-soldier, got me through a clinic and a surrogate cow almost seventeen years ago. I was moving up to Forks to chill with my old man for a few years - just till I finished high school.

You probably don't give a damn, but you should know anyway. I lived in Phoenix, Arizona, ever since I was...what, one? We realized _reeeally _quickly that I, unlike my parents, don't tan. No, I _burn_. Badly. People called me a recluse because I never went outside. I prefer nighttime, because then I can prowl with my gang members and not return with my skin peeling off all red and disgusting.

There was one horrible thing about moving to Forks, and it outweighed even the pro of no more godforsaken sunburn: I'd have to rebuild my reputation and my gang. I'm not a very social person, so having no friends didn't bother me too much, but I did enjoy having a gang behind me. Wen your dad's the police chief of the tiny fricking town, that's pretty damn hard to do.

It's a four-hour flight from the literally-blistering Phoenix to the Alaskan-wannabe town of Seattle, and then another hour up in a smaller plane, and then a thirty-minute train ride down to Forks from Port Angeles. All first-class, of course, because Mom bought the tickets and had a sort of adamant refusal against anything but the best. I took my old Jansport bag just to piss him off, and he watched me walk into the airport with a distasteful grimace on his face.

So from the train station, Chief Kaltherzig picked me up. His first name's Ludwig, and I called him that because it's just hard to call him Dad considering that I've never done it. Everything he did pissed me off - his beloved potatoes potatoes and his ability to bring Mom to tears after a single mention forged a pretty strong bias against him. Naturally I hated him - or disliked him extremely strongly, anyway.

Mom sent me to live with Ludwig because he wanted to "break in" the manor in Italy before moving me into Rome. Or something like that; his story kept changing, and at any point could suddenly be about zombie invasions. Honestly, he probably just wanted me to get along with Ludwig; my grandfather, whose house Mom inherited, died when he was like five, meaning that he's had the estate for years. He didn't take the estate at eighteen, because he met German exchange student Ludwig and ran off with him, even though this was the eighties and gayness wasn't really smiled upon, and didn't go back to Italy after I was born because at the time, the US was a better place to raise a kid. Then, when I was sixteen, I said that I would go up north to live with Ludwig, and Mom agreed a little too quickly.

Ludwig was tall, buff, blonde, and strict, unlike my thin, auburn-haired, harebrained mom. I looked absolutely nothing like him, probably because the surrogate cow they got to pop me out took genes from Mom and not Ludwig. But maybe you'd find some resemblence in our skin color if you examined us really closely; even then, I look completely Italian.

We drove to his house in the huge police cruiser-car-jeep thing that police chiefs drive. His house was okay, but his dog Aksel made it smell. I mean, naturally, he had a German shepherd that jumped on me as soon as we opened the damn door. And of course I didn't shriek like a little girl and jump into the arms of my blankly surprised father - of course not.

As it turned out, Ludwig had gone and bought me a car - a huge, tomato-red truck that I knew Mom would never touch but which I would certainly love. It was nice and Ludwig said it was a good price; I said that as long as the heater works, I'd drive it. Not that I liked it or anything.

* * *

Forks High School looks like a really, really ugly connection of houses. It's not even funny how gross it is. I missed my Phoenix school - but only because it was a hell of a lot easier on my eyes, and I liked block schedule.

I'd moved three weeks into school. In Forks, they started on August 22nd; in Phoenix, they started on September 8th. I hadn't planned to move until the week before, and getting all my things together took a while, so on September 4th, I flew into Washington. All I had to do was get to the office and pick up my schedule, which I'd arranged over email, and then I was gold.

The new school had a disturbing total of like, 200 students. I didn't spend my time looking up how many people there were, but I judged the number of cars I saw when I showed up twenty minutes late to class (because I forgot to set my alarm and woke up ten minutes before school started. I just took my time getting ready, because I was late anyway. Ludwig sighed when I came downstairs and said that I should hurry up; I slo-mo'd, just to piss him off). In Phoenix, we had separate parking lots for each year because there were that many students. Here there was only one, the size of, like... Well, I can't even think of something in Phoenix small enough to describe the size of the lot.

I parked my truck and got out, pulling the hood of my Burberry coat over my head and tightening my scarf a bit before I locked the car and made my way over to the front office. I thought it was the front office, anyway, because it said FORKS HIGH SCHOOL in big ugly letters across the top of the building.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I was right, and the place I went to first was indeed the office; the woman behind the counter, who had frizzy red hair, handed me my schedule and a paper to be signed by each teacher. The only teacher who really actually stood out to me was this one Ukrainian chick with tits sent from the gods: I swear that she was like a 54DDD, because they were absolutely huge. Her shirt buttons popped a few times during her lecture, from her boobs bouncing too vigorously as she explained the differences between various kinds of poetry; she just stitched it right up without skipping a beat. Nobody really reacted, which meant that this was a normal occurence.

At the end of fourth period, we had lunch. This schedule was so confusing, because I was used to block schedule like I had back in Phoenix. Eventually I figured it out, with the help of this total creeper in my Spanish 4 class. Alek Steichen pretty much dragged me over to his table during lunch and fixed my not-quite-worry of having no friends; his sister Camille, a blond junior with a curvy figure and a pretty face, and his younger brother Jason, also a junior but smaller than Camille, were arguing at the table when we sat down. It turned out the reason Creeper dragged me over was because he thought I looked the kind of guy who'd buy drugs. He offered me some of the craziest LSD I'd ever seen, man - the pills themselves were so colorful and vibrant and I blinked and rub at my eyes, wondering if I'd accidentally ingested some.

Camille was much more hospitable, and let me eat my tomato pasta in peace. She also knew everyone in the entire fucking school, and used her fork to point at people and detail all the interesting stuff. Apparently Miss Braginskaya, the teacher with godsent boobs, was actually in Forks and not in her hometown a few miles away because she'd gotten a restraining order on her deranged brother.

In the far corner was a relatively small table with five people around it. Three of them seemed content, one looked overjoyed with life, and the last just looked depressed. None of them really ate anything, but the happy one held something red in one hand. Unfortunately, apparently they were some hot gossip because Camille told me exactly who they were.

"That's the Kirkland family," Camille explained as she followed my eyes to the table. "They're like, all adopted, and all gorgeous, right? But don't get your hopes up. They're all -"

"Fags," I intervened, looking away. I swear I heard a laugh from the table, but when I shot a glare at them the five all looked away from each other again.

There were three boys. One had silver-blond hair, pallid white skin, and deep red eyes, like an albino; he was more powerfully built than the others, but not the tallest. From where I sat, I could tell that he was one annoying fucker.

The next boy had this horribly miserable expression on his face - stuck up, prissy, and constipated, all at once. His hair was black with a random flyaway strand; his eyes were deep topaz, and his glasses looked like those Ralph Lauren ones that Mom wanted to buy me but which I refused in exchange for the thick-framed Ray Bans I had to take out to see the others. He was possibly the thinnest at the entire table, and I thought that he'd collapse in on himself if I punched him.

The last boy was a few inches taller than Constipated, and maybe a good inch and a half taller than Annoying but less bulky. His broad shoulders and chest tapered down to a slim waist and long, long legs; dark chocolate hair curled around his ears, fringe falling into his black eyes, and his skin seemed sunkissed, despite being as pale and blank as the others'. He looked happy, the kind of happy you only see on people who smile constantly.

Both girls were...well, _wow_ is the only word to describe them. The shorter girl, who stared at her perfectly manicured blue-painted fingernails as if they were responsible for world hunger or something, had long pale blond hair held back by a loose blue ribbon. She wore a nondescript light gray bubble dress with a black sash around her stomach. Mom designed clothes, and he used to make me model the various clothes he made; I think that dress, the one Emo wore, had been styled by Mom. Anyway, bubble dresses don't show off the figure as much as they should, because I was certain that under that poofy dress, Emo had a gorgeous figure. The other girl had breasts sent by the angels, not by the gods; they weren't half as big as Miss Braginskaya's, but well on their way there. She had long, wavy, light brown hair with a floral hairpin holding back half of her bangs, large topaz eyes currently glaring at Annoying, and a light green tunic with a brown belt cinched around her midsection and dark gray leggings tucked into brown high-heeled boots. Her figure was perfectly obvious, and I almost started drooling. By face, though, she wasn't as pretty as the breathtaking Emo.

Oh, right. Did I mention that all five looked like they belonged on magazine covers? Maybe not. Well, they did.

They really were all gorgeous, but I couldn't tell whether Happy or Emo was hotter. That's not to say that Annoying, Friendly, and Constipated weren't hot as hell either, and it's not me calling myself gay. Just because I have an eye for beauty does not make me gay, you hear?

Then, I noticed something. The red in Happy's hands? That was a tomato.

Happy had a tomato in his hands.

(Consequently, his ranking rose over Emo's by ten points.)

Anyway, Camille continued talking.

"No, they're all together! I mean, _together_, together." I raised an eyebrow as if to ask, 'and?' She huffed and went on, and I assumed that something like step-siblings screwing must be a big scandal in a small town like Forks. "The one with long brown hair is Elizaveta. She's dating that one with glasses, Roderich. The one who looks like he's bleeding internally. Maybe it's cuz they're all stuck living with Gilbert - guy with red eyes. Rumor has it he's albino, but everyone in his family's pale so nobody really questions it. And the other girl, the really pretty one with the ribbon, is Nataliya. She looks so sad all the time because she's with Gilbert."

"And the last one?" I asked out of curiosity. The other four all watched, disgusted, as Happy gnawed at his tomato, like eating was against their rules.

Camille looked back and said, "Oh, Antonio. Right. He's the only single one there, the hottest, and so rumor has it he is straight as a rainbow."

Joy. Fruitcakes.

The bell rang quickly enough and I stood, popping a last forkful of pasta into my mouth. I felt eyes on my and looked to my right; Antonio was staring. Weird.

Camille walked me to my next class, AP Bio, because she had AP Chem just a few classrooms down. I walked in and unfortunately, the only seat left was next to Happy.

This seemed...planned, somehow.

I walked over to the teacher, who stood by the back of the room. As I passed the fan, which blew directly into Happy's face, he kind of spazzed - guy literally jerked and twitched his head and then focused his eyes on me. They were pitch black, but kind of jumpy, like he was looking me up and down forty times each second.

Then those pure black eyes met my brown ones, and I nearly freaked, cuz he was staring at me...like...like I'd made his day - no, his _life _- by walking into that classroom.

Like I'd replaced the sun and sky.

Like...he _liked _me.

He looked fucking _lovestruck_.

I wanted to puke.

* * *

**A/N: **Characters...well you can probably tell most of them. Umm, like, Mike = Belgium, Jessica = Netherlands, and that Jason character is Luxembourg.


	2. why is everyone I meet such a freak?

**Disclaimer: Nope**

**A/N: **More tsundere-Lovi, more f-bombs every paragraph, idiot-Antonio, other vampires and le werewolves! OHMAI. Thanks to Lily Winterwood for beta-ing :)

**9-9-11 EDIT.**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - why is everyone I meet a freak?**

I never thought that I'd really miss Phoenix until that bio class, which was a sharp reminder that back home, people were _sane_. The tally went as follows:

Phoenix: 1. Forks: -689. (Every second I spent with that damn guy sitting next to me pushed Forks' tally lower, see, and periods were fifty-four minutes long.) I don't even know how I survived through that AP Bio class from hell.

Maybe you're thinking, _what's wrong with this guy to not like the attention? _I mean, I had half the class staring at me because I was already new and quite sexy on my own, thank you very much, and then I had the hottest guy in school next to me, and I'm, uh, open to experimentation, so isn't that a good thing?

Not when the fucker's _breathing down your fucking neck._

Desirable, my ass.

That class wasn't even the worst of it. You know why? The teacher - this total weirdo Swiss guy who looked like a freaking teenager - gets up and says with this barking voice that I'd be sitting next to Happy for the rest of the semester, at least, because everyone else had designated spots already.

I wanted to scream, but right after he said this his phone rang with a gunshot ring tone.

Scary, until he answered sweetly. It turned out to be his sister - well, I think it was a sister, anyway, because he called her Lily, and he didn't really look old enough to have a daughter or mentally stable enough for a girlfriend. I hoped that after he spoke to his sister, I might be able to ask him - politely - about switching seats. When he hung up, I raised my hand and he looked at me by means of calling on me; I barely said, "Can I switch -" when he went psycho.

_Absolutely fucking psycho._

I shrank back into my seat Mr. Zwingli stomped over, brandishing the thin metal meter stick he used as a ruler (which was almost taller than him) as he shouted at me.

It went something like this:

"ARE YOU DEAF? I will NOT allow stupid questions in my classroom, at any time. Did I not say that these are your PERMANENT seats? I don't care that you're new and you had the bad fortune of sitting next to _that _idiot -" Teacher pointed at Antonio, who was staring at me with that damned lovestruck look and who didn't notice the insult - "but he's your partner now, so STOP WHINING!"

I opened my trembling mouth to reply with 'YES SIR' and he hurled the ruler at me.

Fucker hurled the ruler at me!

Of course I didn't shriek.

Or jump into Antonio's arms.

Of course-fucking-not. How dare you suggest such a thing! I mean, obviously, I ended up in his lap because _he _grabbed _me _while I was distracted by the insane teacher. And the overjoyed look on his face was not heart-stoppingly gorgeous. It was like...like...the smile a pedo would give a little kid.

Not beautiful. At all.

Duh.

And anyway, how I ended up in a grinning Antonio's lap isn't important. What _is_ important is that I ended up there, girls pulled cameras out of god-knows-where, and snapped enough pictures in the space of a second to blind me for the next ten minutes.

And fuck, Antonio was cold. I mean, when he grabbed me he wrapped his arms around my waist. It's not like _I _had jumped _him _and clung to his shoulders and bare arms for dear life.

Mr. Zwingli's ruler ended up stabbing the wall right behind me. The kid who sat behind me had been reaching under his desk for something in his bag when Teacher threw the ruler, and so he was still alive.

But seriously. Guy was psycho, and the metal yardstick was in there up to the two-foot line.

* * *

Bio wasn't my last period, because in six-period schedules you apparently aren't allowed any opens so I'd taken Advanced Dance. Unfortunately, over the fifty-minute period, Happy had moved steadily closer to me, and currently sat maybe a half-foot away from me, so I jumped up and ran.

And, like, it's not as though I tripped over my bag and knocked Mr. Zwingli over. And then ran for dear life screaming as he lobbed a few more rulers and scissors at me, swearing loudly enough to terrify students out of the hall. Of course not.

Passing period was five minutes, so I hurried to the dance room. Teacher was a tiny little thing with a loud voice, very much like Mr. Zwingli, and she insisted we call her Laura, so that's what we did. It was fun, but the nagging horror of Happy moving closer and closer to me - ugh. After class, I I went straight to the office, mainly with the hopes of switching out of 6th period Bio.

Naturally, my creepy partner happened to be standing right there in front of the office, beaming at me with a smile that of course did _not _make me blush and trip over my feet. I'm too cool for that, duh.

I stumbled - uh, walked right past the guy, into the office and right over to the lady behind the counter. I felt a whoosh of cold wind on my neck and groaned as I saw in the reflection of that metal wire-basket thingy that Stalker had followed me in.

Fuck.

Talking softly because it felt awkward to talk loudly in a quiet room, I turned in my signed schedule paper slip to the lady, who took it with a smile and set it in the wire basket. Then I said, "Excuse me, but do you have any science open that's not 6th period AP Bio?"

The lady asked why and I said, "I want to transfer to - to AP Chem." Hey, Camille was in that class, so why not? I crossed my fingers and bit my lip as the lady checked for spaces. I was amazed - in Phoenix, they wouldn't change your classes no matter -

"I'm sorry, but that's full."

Fuuuuck.

"A-are there any other sciences open?" The woman looked over her glasses at me and I was close to dropping to my knees and begging. I could imagine the happy look on Happy's face...and I never wanted to see it again. Dammit.

"I'm sorry, but all our other science classes are packed."

Packed, in Forks, meaning a jaw-dropping total of fifteen students. In Phoenix, packed meant thirty-eight kids, so it took all my restraint to keep from whamming my head on the counter.

Instead, I smiled strainedly and turned to leave. The grin on Stalker's face had steadily widened during my conversation with the woman behind the desk, and his teeth glimmered white. I walked around him, glaring at the ground. He opened the door and called a loud, "Adiós, mi amor!"* as I stomped away.

:::

At home, Ludwig stood outside and talking to this tall man who looked like an old man but was really too buff to be older than, like, fifty or sixty. He wore a long flowing jacket, Soviet style, and next to him was a just-as-tall boy in blue jeans and a long scarf.

"Lovino!" Ludwig called as I pulled into the driveway. I parked, turned off the blaring radio and climbed out of the car, swearing in Italian as my bag caught on the shift.

"What now?" I grumbled, ambling over to where the three were standing. I felt abnormally short, surrounded by these three tall people - especially since the babyfaced boy stood almost as tall as Ludwig. I'm like, what, 5'6? 5'7? Tch.

I shrunk under the intense looks I received, and scuffed my toes against the pavement. These two strangers were both imposing and scary, but for some reason the older one seemed scary in a sad way and the younger... well, he just seemed scary.

"Lovino, I want you to meet a few friends of mine," Ludwig said a bit stiffly, as though they weren't friends at all. "This is Mr. Winter and his grandson Ivan." Now that I looked closer, Mr. Winter did look old. But Ivan looked pretty young - his round cheeks gave that away, despite his height and sculpted face. His eyes were deep violet and he really was huge.

"Hello," greeted Commie Jr. cheerfully, voice deep but still somehow childish. Mr. Winter nodded solemnly and turned to Ludwig. Ivan instead turned to me.

"So, like," I said, searching for a conversation topic. I failed miserably, and Ivan smiled, face splitting into nearly two parts and revealing perfect white teeth - like Mr. Winter'd threatened to beat him if he didn't wear his retainers and brush his teeth four times a day.

"You should become one with Mother Russia."

"...I'll pass."

"Oh, but you are just prolonging the inevitable. All becomes one with Mother Russia eventually, see."

"That's nice," I spat, glancing frantically at my car and wondering how long it would take me to get in the car and drive to safety. Would Commie Jr. catch up before I could get to the police station?

"I hear you go to Forks High School." He actually didn't have much of an accent, just a soft lilting; I guessed he'd been in America longer than Russia. Good. I mean, obviously, Russian accents aren't hot at all. Pff.

"Yep," I said, crossing my arms. "And?" Then a name came back to me, and before I knew what I was saying I asked him, "Are you related to Miss Braginskaya?"

He frowned and raised an eyebrow.

Douche. I mean, it's a tiny town. How many people named Braginski/Braginskaya are there?

I flushed a bit and tried to describe her, and the only things I could do were shape out huge boobs and say, "She has a rack the size of -" but then I stopped speaking.

Ivan's face fell, and at the same time this terrible grimace stretched his lips. A visibly dark aura cloud formed around his head and he muttered under his breath.

Dammit. I shouldn't have talked about that woman like that.

"Yes. She's my older sister."

...well then. I _definitely _shouldn't have talked about her like that.

I saw a light flare behind Ivan. Was...was that a water pipe?

"Eevan, vat have I said about that pipe?" Mr. Winter's voice was like his appearance - cold and raspy, but still strangely grandpa-like. If your grandpa was stricter than airport customs, anyway.

The flash was gone and Ivan smiled again.

"Eet vas nice to meet your son, Ludvig," Mr. Winter said. Ivan nodded a bit, staring at me with an irritated glint in his eyes.

I can't tell you how happy I was when Mr. Winter and Commie Jr. piled into their car and drove off, Ivan driving and waving happily at me, and then shooting an evil grin when Mr. Winter wasn't looking.

My legs felt faint, and I made for the door.

It's not like I ran inside, screaming at the top of my lungs.

* * *

For dinner that night, Ludwig cooked these disgusting sausages and I prepared some pasta to go with it, and his damn dog kept trying to eat my food.

And it's not like I gave it to Aksel because I was scared or anything by the huge frigging German shepherd trying to rip my face off. I just decided the food wasn't worth grace from my digestive system.

I decided instead to just have pasta and tomatoes. Ludwig had agreed to my only terms of living with him - one, that he never detain me from leaving the house at all odd hours, and two, that the house be always stocked with tomatoes. He obliged, of course; I mean, it's me. I'm like, the best damn thing that's ever happened to him, for fuck's sake.

I don't like thinking about the time he was living with Mom.

After dinner, I got up and put my plate in the sink before heading upstairs. I wondered if scrubbing hard enough could get Antonio's sappy grin and Commie Jr.'s freakiness out of my head.

It didn't, of course, and I got into bed an hour later with a scowl on my face as I reached for my laptop. My cell vibrated harshly against my hip as I checked my emails, and Ludwig burst in on me because he's crazy, not because I yelled loudly enough to pull him out of bed to come and check on me. Duh. When Ludwig saw me on the phone, he nodded in relief before walking back to his room.

_"Lovi!"_ Mom's voice was so loud, I had to hold the phone away from my ear to avoid popping my tympanic membrane. _"Hi, baby! How are you?"_

"Fine, Mom," I said with a roll of my eyes and a fond smile on my face. "How empty is the new house?"

_"The mansion is huge, Lovi!"_ Mom squealed. _"The cooks all make great pasta, the orchard has row after row of tomato plants - but I miss you so much, dear."_

"I miss you too," I sighed. "Forks is _such _a drag."

_"I know, right? How's Luddy?"_

"'Luddy'?" The name sounded weird in my mouth. "Ludwig's fine -"

Mom cut me off with a click of his tongue. _"'Dad', not 'Ludwig'!"_

I scowled. "Dad, then." Calling Ludwig 'Dad' was even weirder, if possible, than hearing Mom call him by an obvious pet name. "He's fine. He's got a damn annoying dog, though."

Mom laughed. _"Doitsu still there?"_

"Doitsu?"

_"We had a German shepherd around when you were born, Lovi. Called him Doitsu because I was learning Japanese then."_

"Well, nope. Dog's name is Aksel."

_"Aww!" _Mom gasped_. "What happened to Doitsu?"_

"Well, Mom," I sighed, "it's been almost seventeen years -" I stopped as Mom started sniffling.

_"H-he was such a c-cute dog -"_

"Yeah, yeah."

Mom stopped. _"So, what else's happened?"_

"Umm, at school I met this really nice Dutch-Belgian-Luxembourgian family, though Camille - the Belgian one - is the only one I actually like -"

_"I bet the Dutch one tried to offer you drugs."_

"Don't be racist, Mom," I snickered.

_"I'm not being racist! All my Dutch friends offered me drugs, which is why I asked, you know! And the Luxembourgian - is that even the right term for someone from Luxembourg?"_

"Don't think so. Don't care."

_"And this Camille, is she nice?"_

"Yeah, pretty cool."

_"Don't date her too fast, Lovi!"_

"I wasn't going to!"

Mom laughed. _"What else?"_

"There's this other creepy stalker guy from a gay adopted family -"

_"Don't do anything to him! Luddy won't shield you from the law!"_

I rolled my eyes. "And Lu- Dad's friends are just as creepy as the guy from school."

_"Ooh, who did you meet?"_

"Ehh, some Russians named -"

Mom screamed shrilly._ "The Braginskis?"_

"Yeah?"

He gave another shriek, loud enough to bring Ludwig running again. He knocked concernedly on the door - unfortunately, when Mom screams, he sounds like me - and I called for him to go away. His footsteps receded and I thought I could hear him grumbling.

Tch. Probably something about his old age.

_"Don't let them take you alive, Lovi!"_

"Uhh...yeah. Love you Mom."

_"Love you too, honey. Bye~"_

"Bye." I hung up, put my phone on silent, and slid into bed. "Fuck this town," I said sullenly as a clap of thunder announced the pouring rain.

* * *

The next day at school, I dreaded fifth. Mr. Zwingli was too fucking scary for his size, dammit, I thought as I walked into the cafeteria and over to a waving Camille.

"So, how was your first day?" she asked with a stunningly bright smile.

I shrugged lightly. "It was okay," I said, pulling my plastic container of pasta out of my bag. "I got stuck sitting next to Antonio Carriedo in Bio, though."

There was a grimace on her face and she leaned in closer. "Well, just between us," she whispered, "Carriedo is a total -"

"Don't go spreading rumors, Camille," Alek chastised loftily as he dropped his tray onto the table. Jason followed and sat on Camille's other side, across from me; he started eating right away, and she pouted at the interruption. Alek turned to me. "There's nothing really wrong with Carriedo," he said with a shrug as he picked up his pizza. "Except that he's a moron. I feel sorry for you. I got partnered with him for a lit project and he didn't do any work at all."

"But you got a hundred on that, because it was Miss Braginskaya teaching!" Camille objected. Alek and Jason both glared, and she shrank back in her seat.

"Speaking of gays," Jason said absently, pointing with his fork over to the Kirkland table. Stalker was dead or something, and there were only four people here. I could hardly remember the names, but I remembered their nicknames; Emo was actually smiling lightly, sitting next to Friendly and probably laughing because of the silent, nonverbal argument that Constipated and Annoying were having.

"Carriedo not here," Camille frowned.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I could actually see myself enjoying Bio without my stupid partner.

"By the way, why's his last name Carriedo? I thought it was Kirkland," I wondered aloud, glancing back from the Kirkland table.

Alek shrugged again. "The only Kirkland in that family is the doc. The rest of them kept their original surnames - they're all adopted, as you know."

"Yep. Antonio Carriedo, Nat Arlovskaya, Liz Hedervary, Gilbert Beilschmidt, and Roderich Edelstein," nodded Camille.

Either way, Antonio wasn't there, and that was wonderful.

So when I walked into class that day, I let out an audible groan to see luminous, energetic, molten gold eyes staring joyously at me.

Fuck this town.


	3. you creeper, don't stand so close to me

**Disclaimer: :'(**

**A/N: **OMG. Thank you so much, to everyone, for reviewing and favoriting and subscribing!! I can't explain how happy you made me :'D

I hope you all enjoy this chapter too! :) I've taken to writing in my copy of Twilight, so I know what to put xD there are like, red edits and blue addins all over, to help me with Flashlight's story. Heehee.

I'm listening to the male version of "Just Be Friends" by Megurine Luka...it's like, part of a DenNor vid on YT. That has nothing to do with this plot :3

I don't have a beta for this chapter (too late to print and show Lily Winterwood xD) so if you see any typos, tell me please?

Onwards~

* * *

**Chapter 3 - YOU CREEPER, DON'T STAND SO CLOSE TO ME!**

That evening, I had gotten home, done my homework and flopped straight onto my bed. I was dead tired, mainly because it seemed that damn Stalker's energy never freaking ran out and he yapped the whole damn class.

Oh, and cuz I was almost hit by a car. But mainly because Stalker wouldn't _shut the hell up_.

"I don't think I really introduced myself last class!" Stalker had said loudly. All the girls pulled their cameras out when Stalker showed up and glomped me, and I was blinded yet again; when I could see, five minutes later, it turned that Stalker had been staring at me doing whatever work I could the whole time.

Of course, I didn't freak and scream and cause Mr. Zwingli to throw a piece of chalk at my head.

"Anyway, anyway," Stalker says, looking too cheerful to be human (no, really. You should have seen it, it was scary as fuck), as he continues, "I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo! I'm Spanish and I speak more languages than I can count, I was adopted years back by my uncle and his husband of sorts, even though my uncle tops -" And here I tuned him out. I really, really did not want to hear about his fucked up family's sex lives.

Really. I mean, it's not like I'm a gossip whore or anything...

I turned back to my work, only to receive a hard poke in the arm a few minutes later. Stalker had been rambling the whole time, it turned out, and now he was staring at me like a kid on Christmas morning; I realized with a jolt he was waiting for me to introduce myself.

"Lovino Vargas," I spat out, turning back to my work.

"Oooh! Italiano!" he squealed. Yes, he squealed. He also practically jumped and smashed my head against his chest and I thought I heard something crack in my head from both the force and the disturbingly hard chest he was in possession of.

...damn, that sounds wrong.

Anyway, if you can't tell from that rundown, this creep had totally drained my energy. Just sitting next to him made me want to fall over and just sleep.

It was NOT because he was so good-smelling and sexy-sounding and overall gorgeous that it was intoxicating, okay?!

Che.

So after class I got up and virtually ran out, slamming my paper down onto Mr. Zwingli's desk and noticing the slightly sympathetic look he had when I saw Stalker get up just as quickly as me, grab his notebook and chase after me.

Maybe if I ran fast enough, I could get into the car before Stalker could get to me!

It's not like I tripped on the ice and scraped my hands or anything. I mean, duh. I just decided to fall over, as a ruse to slow Stalker down.

He sped up. I jumped and kept running. People were watching now, Stalker yelling, "¡No! Espere, mi pequeño tomate!" I freaked - why the hell was he calling me a tomato?!*

Almost to my car, almost to my car! I pulled the keys out of my pocket, unlocked the car and was about to make a dive for it,

And, naturally, some idiot trying to back out would skid on the ice and swerve straight for me.

I did _not _shriek and totally freeze up right next to the car door!

Some people might tell you that when you're about to be hit by a car, adrenaline makes everything clear and loud and fast.

Well, they're idiots. Everything seemed to go in slo-mo, like someone had been messing with the DVR remote to my life.

Just as I expected the truck to slam me into the cars behind me and totally make a Lovino-pancake, there was a loud thump which turned out to be my head cracking on the pavement, as well as a weird crushing sound. I wondered how I'd ended up lying down, with Stalker like. On top of me.

Wait, WHAT?!

I shrieked (in a manly way, okay?!) and kicked Stalker's torso (to no avail) before looking at his left hand. It was holding the car back, a huge indent in the side of the van roughly the size of a textbook. There was a hole in the metal - I could feel heat pouring out - and it fit Stalker's hand perfectly.

Oh, right. His hand was still stuck in the side of the car.

Lolwut?

I looked at him with a blank look. There was a worried one on his face and he was biting his lip.

He didn't look good, okay?!

Che.

"Lovi? ¿Estás bien?" His voice was kind of muffled, but I could make out the Spanish.*

Lovi?

Stalker blinked and repeated, in Italian. "Stai bene?"*

I was still a bit in shock and I stared at him still.

"¡Ahh! Yo lo he matado!"* Stalker was totally freaking out, and he ripped his hand out of the car. "I'M SORRY, LOVI!"

"Scendere me, stupido spagnolo!"* I started kicking at him again, and he rolled off with a relieved look. I checked my self for scratches, but when I reached up to touch my forehead there was hot wetness on my fingers. "Damn..." I winced and tried to pull myself up.

"Let me see." Stalker, suddenly serious, reached out to touch the bleeding gash. His fingers felt pleasantly cold, but there was a weird spaz-attack on his face and he jumped up. "Me tengo que ir! Te quiero, Lovino~!"*

The guy driving the van that had almost hit me looked out the window, a trickle of blood dripping down his forehead, and said, "O-oh my God, I'm so sorry!"

I blinked again and was pulled to my feet by a strangely unconcerned Alek as people began crowding.

* * *

The hospital was small but organized and I let Alek carry me in on his back, a concerned Lieve trailing next to us and looking at me worriedly. My head hurt like a bitch, as though I had a hangover, though the towel I had pressed to my head had stopped the blood.

"Yes, I'll take a look at him, alright?" I heard a distinct, crisp British accent a few seconds before the doors swung open and a small, slim blonde stepped into the hospital room. The first thing I noticed was actually not the good looks that proved him to be none other than the famed Dr. Kirkland, but actually...those monstrous _eyebrows_.

They looked like caterpillars had crawled onto his face! Really! Ludwig was trailing after him, a furious look on his face as he strode past the guy who'd almost hit me (I don't know his name, hehe) but that glare wasn't so different than his normal look. Whatever.

"So, I heard you got hit by a car?" Dr. Kirkland chuckled in that annoying British accent.

"No. A tank rolled over my leg." I deadpanned and one of those monster eyebrows twitched before the doc pulled a flashlight out of a lab coat pocket and clicked it on.

"Your son's a charmer," he said to Ludwig as he flashed the light in my eyes. I grimaced as the intrusion of light made my head pound.

A few more moments passed before Doc says, "There doesn't seem to be anything majorly wrong with him. The cut will heal in maybe a month? I doubt the scar will vanish, but your bangs cover it so don't worry." His voice really grated, more than even Stalker's...

After he was done taking some notes on a clipboard, Doc's cell phone rang loudly - some weird French song that pissed me off. He pulled his phone out and answered as he walked over to the computer, and I remembered hearing somewhere that it was rude for doctors to have their cells on them during checkups.

A French accent all but screamed from the other line, "BONJOUR, MON CHER~ CA VA?!"*

I don't speak French, so have no idea what was said. Doctor replied, "Pas mal, fichu grenouille."* Kirkland sighed before adding, "Pourquoi téléphones-tu?"*

Ludwig cleared his throat and Doctor looked up from the page he had just printed. He lowered the phone and said with a cheerful smile, "There's nothing else. You can go if you'd like."

I jumped and wobbled before stumbling my way out.

* * *

The next morning, I woke up with a considerably better-feeling head, and I quite cheerfully went and bathed and dressed and went downstairs to make breakfast before realizing it was a school holiday. Teacher conferences or some shit; I don't know, do I look like the kind of person to listen to the principal?

I was so happy. I thought of calling up Lieve and maybe going for a movie or something, and after making scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, I did so. Lieve agreed to meet me at 12 in front of the movie theater - we were going to see some random horror movie with a freaky-looking Asian chick on the front - and I called Ludwig and told him I'd be out until like, 5 or 6. He told me to be careful and not crash; the roads were slicked with ice, after all. I noticed that he'd put snow chains on my car, too, and scowled when I realized he thought I would still crash. Bah.

Two hours later, I'd finished my week's work (because I work fast and like getting it all done soon) and was dressing to go out. I chose a pair of gray skinny jeans, a white T-shirt with a sort of weird abstract design over the front in various shades of gray and black, and a dark green dress shirt, to keep me from looking too casual. From what I'd seen of Lieve so far, she dressed to impress, and I knew she wouldn't show up in, like, pajamas.

I met the Belgian girl in front of the ticket booth; she was wearing a maroon dress that flared out a little below her hips and ended several inches above her knees, with black thigh-high stockings and a black jacket. There was also a maroon ribbon in her blond hair. She looked very nice and I suppose on anyone else the outfit (which I was sure had been designed by Mom...) would have looked slutty, but not on her.

"You look great," I complimented her with a smile. She returned one, a bit of a blush on her face, and her brother -

HO SHIT. Where the hell did Alek come from?!

I of course didn't have a mini spaz attack right there. I mean, duh.

He was looming in the shadows somewhere, throwing glances at a group of teenage girls, when I noticed him.

"Okay, he's here," Lieve said, turning to Alek and crossing her arms. "You can go away now."

Alek shrugged and walked over to the group of definitely underage girls with a lewd smile on his face. They looked overjoyed to have this tall, good-looking guy with them, though there was a bit of a sour look on Lieve's face. Eh.

"He's so weird," she sighed as Alek walked off with the four girls crowding around him, two on each arm. "They're way too young...oh well." She turned to me and beamed. "You look really nice too, Lovino!" said Lieve, blushing again a little.

I smiled.

"So, let's get tickets then?" I suggested, and we walked over. People were staring at us, and I smirked. Even if I didn't like Lieve that way, we still looked great together; our reflection in the glass door looked like something from a magazine. Hehe.

The movie we saw was terrible and I can't even remember the name. We spent the whole time laughing at how shitty the horror was, much to the disdain of the others in the theater.

It finished at, like, 2PM, so we went to go eat. There's this cute little café a ways from the theater, kind of like a Starbucks plus a donut store plus a sandwich store, and it's all made up nicely; we ate there, still laughing over the movie.

_Not _giggling! I'm a _man_.

At 3, Lieve's brother came to pick her up. I'd offered to drive her home, but she said that they had to go visit their parents in Seattle at about 4:30 or 5, and they had to go right away and get Jason from a friend's on the drive. Alek had phone numbers scrawled all over his arms and was looking very content with himself; Lieve shook her head, disgusted, and left with him. They were a bit of a weird pair; he was tall and into younger girls and she was small and proper. And Jason...he was probably the middle of everything, actually.

There was nothing else to do, so I just went to the bookstore.

Naturally, the bookstore would be closed due to renovations or some shit like that. I found myself driving home - er, to Ludwig's instead.

The next day rolled around and before I knew it, my alarm had gone off in the morning and I pulled myself up. No, literally. I grab the top of my bed frame and use it to haul myself into a sitting position, because I just don't like getting up. It's not cuz I'm weak or anything. Bah.

Twenty minutes later, I dressed simply and grabbed a bagel on my way out, too lazy to do anything else and also because I was late.

Not that I cared at all about seeing Stalker. It's just because a whole day without hearing the melodic bounces of Miss Braginskaya's breasts made me wonder how I'd managed the rest of my life.

But...now knowing that she was related to that creep Commie...

I was thinking about it as I got out of my car.

And all through the day.

So afterwards, when I walked into 6th Bio after muttering a quick prayer to not be driven up the wall today, I wondered how I'd missed the fact that Antonio was gone.

I couldn't remember Bio ever being so enjoyable.

* * *

**A/N: **Lovi, you meanie! :( I'd be sad if my smexy lab partner was missing :'( and it's for a reason you'll never guess.

...actually, if someone CAN guess it, I'll write you any oneshot you'd like. Hehe.

Thanks for reading!

**Notes:**

*¡No! Espere, mi pequeño tomate! - "No! Wait, my little tomato!" I think. xD Spanish.  
*Lovi? ¿Estás bien? - "Lovi? Are you okay?" I think, again C: Spanish.  
*Stai bene? - "Are you okay?" xD Italian.  
*¡Ahh! Yo lo he matado! - "Ahh! I've killed him!" I think, HAHA I FAIL AT SPANISH.  
*Scendere me, stupido spagnolo! - "Get off me, you stupid Spaniard!" Italiano~  
*Me tengo que ir! Te quiero, Lovino~! - "Got to go! Love you, Lovino~!" Spanish  
*BONJOUR, MON CHER~ CA VA?! - "HELLO, MY DEAR~ HOW ARE YOU?!" French, which I'm actually good at :D I hope, heh.  
*Pas mal, fichu grenouille...Pourquoi téléphones-tu? - "Not bad, damn frog...why are you calling/phoning?" Because in my eyes, England is a Francophile :D


	4. My gaydar like, EXPLODES around you!

**Disclaimer: I don't own APH or Twilight, but I own this twisted plot. :3**

**A/N: **9 PAGES. -fingers fall off-

Well, that was my original AN but then I had to rewrite the entire thing. Thank heavens for a beta who likes hard copies, eh? xD

Let's see. Here, some revelations, total skips/creative renovations of supposedly important scenes in the book, Commie guest-starring, and the wonderful introduction of "Alice".

Also, just a warning - I have nooooo idea how people say their prayers, so an early apology for Romano's prayer scene. OTL and Russia's summary of the legends was actually said by ThyHoho over AIM when I asked him what the Quileute tales were. :D

And, yes, amazing as it is, there WILL be some Ivan/Lovino later. Much, much later. xD

Thanks for beta-ing, Lils!

Hope you enjoy~

7-19-10: Edited some stuff.

7-21-10: Edited some more stuff!

Oh, and guys? Since we're so close, **100th reviewer gets a oneshot. **

* * *

**Chapter 4 - "My gaydar like, EXPLODES around you!" Cue weird hand gestures.**

So Antonio didn't show up for bio that Friday and I _actually managed to get work done_. Amazing what the freedom from not having a creepy stalker who does nothing but stare at you the whole period can do to a guy! I won that random-ass shit trophy thingy whose only perk was that you could hit people with it and Mr. Zwingli somehow smiled.

Kind of. But it was scary as hell.

Of course, since I'm a _man_, it's not like I totally freaked and ducked under my desk when he smiled.

"Good to know that the _both_ of you aren't idiots, he told me and I smirked. I was _not_ trembling, okay?

God.

Lieve saw me after school and came over for a second, just to ask whether Antonio had shown up for bio. I said no and she nodded, saying, "Huh, I thought for sure he'd show to see you..." before leaning over and pecking me on the cheek, and running.

My awesome Italian-ness - which comes with automatic knowledge of romance - kept me from blushing and stumbling over to my car.

No, really!

I got home and found, _oh darn_, we were out of wurst.

I was grinning until I was trying to make food for myself and saw the note on the fridge.

Which said we were out of tomatoes, too.

Fucking Ludwig. Not even keeping the damn house stocked! There was nothnig for it, so I shouted a few cusswords in a voicemail message to him and grabbed my keys, heading for the grocery.

Buono tomato, bitches.

Fucking store didn't have any good fucking tomatoes. I bought the best ones I could find, with some tomato seeds, and grabbed some more pasta just in case there was more about the understocked kitchen than Ludwig had cared to tell me.

I was standing in front of the sausage section, having a mental war with myself on deciding whether or not Ludwig deserved sausage - and whether I felt like paying for it, even though the money I used to go grocery shopping was technically Ludwig's - that I didn't notice a girl making a beeline for me.

"Hey!" I turned at the sout - it really made my head, like. Explode. - and was scowling until I realized who was talking.

Friendly - remember her, that Hungarian or summat odd sister of Antonio, the one with a large rack and brown hair? - was standing in front of me in a white dress that I think was more fit for summer than the gloom in Forks, with her long hair flowing about her waist and a yellow flower hairpin on the right side of her head. She was also hoding a basket with wine (probably for her French dad), sausages (oh, probably for that German brother of hers), vodka (I'm sure someone told me that the other girl was, like, Belorussian or something?), tomatoes (for Antonio, duh), Hello Hydration shampoo, and finally like the store's whole stock of Trojans, thrown right there on top and attracting several astonished stares.

I didn't even _want _to know why they needed so many.

"Hello," I said cheerfully instead, trying to get over the disgust.

"Are you gay?"

Thank god I wasn't drinking anything at the time. At least my gum was pushed to the back of my teeth, to keep it out of the way while I spoke.

"Uhm." I kind of twitched and looked at her with a sort of stare you'd see on, like, that kid's show about a tiny alien trying to take over the world.

Like, you know, that one where one eye's more open than the other and all?

Like, surprise?

Kind of?

...

Ah, fuck you.

"No, really!" she said, lifting her hands up in front of her and waving them frantically, kind of like a shield. "It's just that, like, I can tell gay guys really well! And...well, my gaydar tells me that you're _flaming_!"

I was still too shocked to answer. People were staring now.

"But, I mean, I like gay guys!" she went on with a wide grin, possibly trying to salvage the situation and gesturing wildly. "Two guys kissing or screwing each other senseless is like, the hottest thing in the world!" She looked mad, totally off her rocker. Some small part of me wondered why she wasn't having a major nosebleed yet.

And by this time, lots of women were flushing and dragging their kids away. ("But Momma, I wanna hear the crazy lady!")

Oh, dear God, smite me now.

"So will you hurry up and ease that damn UST between you and Tony, and let me record the makeup sex?"

I choked on my gum and leaned over, hacking.

CRAZY HUNGARIAN BITCH SAY WHAAAT?

The girl came and whacked my back a couple times, and the gum flew into my hand.

Oh. Well. That's disgusting. I flicked the gum at the ground, much to the disdain of others around me.

"Uhh...yeeeeeeeeeah _no_. I'll have to refuse that. Goodbye." I whirled around and started walking as quickly as I could without tripping to the checkout line. I managed to lose Friendly - who was quite rapidly turning into CRAZY BITCH - and pay for my stuff, and get out of that freaking store.

Zombies, I sweat. CRAZY BITCH acted like a zombie!

N-not that I'm s-s-scared of zombies.

I stepped outside and _SWEET LORD, SHE WAS STANDING RIGHT THERE_.

I totally kept my cool, though. You should have seen me! It was so amazing that people stared.

No, they were _not _looking because I shrieked so loudly that some little kid started crying!

Please, God, don't let this be a rerun of the _last_ time an abnormally good-looking person (not that antonio was amazingly sexy or anything!) chased me into a parking lot.

"No! Wait!" The girl hastily ran up to my side and met my speed, talking all the while. The bag of unmentionables - wait, what? When did she - oh, whatever. She was running with the bags held carelessly in one hand, all of the weight of like, eight - ugh, that rhymed... - bags hardly slowing her down as she chased me.

"Okay, first off, my name's Elizaveta Beilschmidt, but you can call me Liz like the rest of yhe world! you're Lovino Romano Vargas, an Italian from Phoenix, and the current object of my brother's affections! So hurry up and let him fuck you into the mattre -"

One thing you must remember - I am a _man_, and men _do not wail_! "No! Stop! I don't want to hear it!" I said, running now and with my hands clapped over my ears.

ALMOST THERE, MAN.

CRAZY BITCH remained next to me, keeping up with my fast pace and hardly looking affected.

"Hey, hey! I'm not done!" she cried. "DAMMIT, WAIT!" I saw a flash and then everything went black.

How the fuck did she hide a frying pan in that dress?

But still, I like, passsed out.

Well, for like, five seconds anyway. I'm badass and I don't even cry when I get knocked out.

"OW, FUCK!" I shouted as I opened my eyes. There was a throbbing pain in my left temple and I reached up to touch it gingerly. Assess the damage, you know?

I look up and saw a worried, but still disturbingly exquisite look on CRAZY BITCH's face. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I totally didn't mean to hit you that hard!" she was blabbering, looking close to tears. But not quite. Something told me she hit people with frying pans a lot.

It took me a second to realize she was still talking. "- and like, I just needed to know right away!" she was saying. "So, like, I checked where you were and followed you here, and yeah..so you gotta answer meeeee!"

Uhm. Okay. What?

"You - you checked where I was?" I squawked -erm, asked calmly.

Liz nodded.

"How - why - when - euh?"

That sound, by the way, is pronounced, EUEAUH?

Well, actually, I'm like," she looked around for a second before leaning in, as though thinking that the loads of people frozen and staring weren't eavesdropping. "..._psychic_." She said this dramatically and waited for it to sink in.

I blinked, before pulling myself up and staring at heer, wincing as my headache made four more sets of 36D boobs appear.

"I need alcohol." I walked over to her red Benz, opened the passenger seat, and got in, not even caring for my belt as she popped up out of nowhere and started the car.

Two hours and who knows how many bottles of beer later, I was sitting content at a table way in the back of a random bar that Liz had snuck us into.

"Okay, so tell me again," I said, slurring only slightly. "You're psychic?"

"Yup!" she said, taking a swig from her beer. She'd drained ast least as many as me, though she looked hardly affected.

We drank quietly for a little longer before I stood, spat my drink out, and shouted, "CRAZY HUNGARIAN BITCH SAY WHAAAAT?"

* * *

I woke up with a totally killing head. Jeez, it felt like the times when Mom would put a pillow on my face and go to sleep, and end up smothering me for a few hours. Which I wouldn't notice, since siesta is hard to break; but I'd still wake up with a roaring headache,

Hangoverrrrr.

Thank God it was Saturday, at least. I got up, wobbled, and ran to the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, I came out, showered and toweling my hair dry and stumbling over my feet. At least the taste of sick was out of my mouth. Ew. I hate throwing up.

I heard knocking on the door and yelled., "WHAT?" Ludwig opened the door and peered in before tossing my the Alka Seltzer. I caught it _gracefully_, not crying out and ducking as it came towards me, okay?

I popped two of the pills and capped the bottle, setting it by my bedside table and flopping back onto my mattress.

"Make it go awayyyy," I moaned into the pillow as my cell started vibrating from its place on my desk. I kicked out at it and it hit the ground, and I went back to sleep.

Well, I _tried_, anyway, but the idiot calling me wouldn't give up!

"What?" I said sourly five minutes later as I flipped open my phone. "Why do you keep calling?"

_"Ah, Comrade Lovino! You've finally answered!"_

Oh, shit on a stick.

"Damn Commie, how'd you get my number?"

I could practically hear his annoying grin. _"Ehh, don't worry. I called because I wanted to let you know, that I am free today and in need of someone to - how do you say? Hang out, with?"_

"Yeah, well, good for you," I spat. "But, oh-so-unfortunately, _I _have a raging hangover and am not fucking interested in hanging out with you.

_"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, especially since I'm downstairs..."_

Why, God? I try to be a good Catholic, I really do! I say my prayers every night, repent whenever I do evil acts, and I go to Mass - er, I will again as soon as I find a church here - so why do you put me through this torture?

C-chigi...

Back to my depressing dilemma. "W-what?"

_"Da!" _as if on cur, my door burst open and there stood Commie Jr in all his Communist-laced glory.

I unconsciously reached for the rosary on my bedside table.

I was still clutching it fifteen minutes later, as I sat in the passenger seat on Commie Jr's giant, environment-killing black Hummer.

"So, Comrade," he said cheerfully, turning to look at me and somehow managing to drive perfectly, even when not looking. Maybe he was part Italian. "How was your first week in Washington?"

"...rainy."

"Ah, I see, I see!" Commie turned back to the roar, thankfully, and I glared out the window. How did I get roped into this again...

"Oh, by thw ay," I said, suddenly remembering something Liz'd told me. "Are there any stories of, like...mythical beings or shit in this general area?"

Commie pursed his lips and glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. "Well, there are just the basic tales, as much as I remember. Would you like to hear them?"

I shrugged and scowled. "Do we have anything _else _to talk about?"

He took a moment, then laughed. "Ahaha, I do not get this American humor half the time...personally, the sight of someone's face twisting in agony is funny, no matter who it is." Commie didn't seem to notice how I sort of blanched. "For example, you! When I think of how you'd look, contorted in pain, I can't help but smile!"

I think that, at this moment, I made the white shirt I wore under my jack look dark.

"Anyway," he said, swerving to avoid a random chunk of ice on the road. "The stories, da?"

"Y-yeah."

"Hmm...which first?" he pondered to himself, before smiling broadly. "Oh, I'll tell you about the wolves!" Without waiting for me to respond, he went on.

"Once upon a time, there was a chief with a name far too long and confusing for me to remember, as well as extremely hard to pronounce, so we'll just call him 'Chief'." Already, I could tell that Commie didn't care too much for the legends... "Chief was the leader of a group of warriors who had some special skill that allowed them to abandon their human bodies and manifest their spirits as a sort of wolf-shaped creature. What a useless skill, no? After all, the bear is much more powerful...but whatever the case, they could not leave their human bodies for too long, and so only used their spirit wolf power when they hunted or such.

"Anyway, back then, the clans were tightly-knit and so there were few problems. Then one day, a warrior -decided that he wanted to rule, and, during one of their spirit wolf changes, he took over Chief's body and killed his own, thus trapping the spirit of the real Chief in limbo, and taking over the clan. To keep the secret, the fake chief banned the use of their spirit wolf form.

"A time later, Chief - who had been watching in rage as the village grew corrupt - somehow merged with a real wolf, and went back to the village to kill his body, and so the fake chief. At this point, another interesting quirk happened, and somehow the wolf Chief had taken over turned into a man.

"So, the wolf-human bloodline mixed with the other Quileutes, and turned us into werewolves that aren't quite werewolves, and now we're all - how do you say it...fucked up, I think. We even have these specific 'soul mates', or some such term, called imprints. According to the legends, one doesn't know love until they find their imprint. As I said, fucked up. The end." Commie paused for a second, before adding, "Oh, and Chief was my great-great-great-great-great-great-_great _grandfather, or such."

I stared at him blankly. He was smiling, as per usual. "...that's...wonderful."

It made me wonder. If he was a Quileute, why was he Russian?

We had reached the beach, which was where commie had wanted to take me. Getting out of the car, Commie said, "Oh, and you wanted to hear about the other tales, too?"

I nodded. Amazingly, his summaries were actually very easy to follow.

"Hmm...the Cold Ones next, then." He stopped and motioned me over to sit next to him, on a bleached white log. I did so cautiously, expecting him to - I don't know, shank me or something as soon as I came too close.

He did not, and when I sat he continued his story.

"Now, there is a great and tiring story behind the Cold Ones which I do not feel like relating completely. I shall simply tell you this: some tribe members killed someone they shouldn't have, and brought the wrath of a crazy lover down on them like hellfire. Then, after a fight that could have been easily resolved with a few good swings of a water pipe - but see, at this time the Russians had not yet come to the reservation, so instead the wolf-warriors had to fight with their hands and lose several warriors - it was decided that, yes, both the two they killed were vampires."

I snorted.

"They are called the Cold Ones because, as implied, their skin was very cold to the touch.

"Several years later, more people resembling the original Cold Ones came and turned out to be vampires as well, but much more pleasant. They didn't kill humans, so really they were more fail vampires than anything else. So the wolfmen agreed to a peace treaty, one which the Russians did not much agree which. Hence the reason we haven't killed the Kirkland-Bonnefois family yet. The end."

"Wait, what?" I said, confused. "The Kirkland-Bonnefois family? What do they have to do with anything?"

Commie shrugged. "Apparently they are the fail vampires of legend."

"Ah."

We sat in silence.

* * *

That night, I went on Gaggle.*

Fucking internet was so slow, I turned my laptop off halfway and used my uPhone* to steal the neighbor's internet with my WiFi. See, I'm with the times and I use the internet instead of going down to a fucking nameless town's fucking nameless bookstore and wasting five fucking bucks on a book I could read - or torrent - online.

I typed "vampire" into Gaggle and groaned at the forty-bajillion results. So I narrowed it and typed, "cold one" instead.

Oh, joy. Only _20 _bajillion responses this time, including an ad for a cold-water washing machine.

I kept adding random words, but then got totally bored and just Wikipodia'd* it.

"HAHA!" I cackled as I found the page.

"Hmm...blah blah, Cold Ones, something something, cold skinned - no shit, Sherlock - no special skin color, red or gold or black eyes - no need to be so damn _specific_, Wikipodia - oh, huh? No, I do not fucking want a free uPod, damn ads..." I groaned and kept looking.

Finally, something promising - "they supposedly sparkle."

Ooooookay.

Ten minutes later, I flopped down onto my bed.

I had an extremely random dream. I dreamed of Antonio gardening in a pink apron and sparkling in the sun, and offering me tomatoes. Then Commie Jr showed up riding a giant wolf and grabbed me, and I screamed, so Antonio started fighting Commie - who was holding a water pipe menacingly.

I was edging away, when a random-ass Asian guy showed up out of nowhere, holding an eggplant and a falcon, and yelled, "RISE AND SHINE!" And then a mountain exploded behind him.*

I shot up in bed to my alarm and wondered _what the royal fuck _that was all about.

* * *

**A/N: **So~ I'm sorry for the uber-late update!

My last question was weird. My answer was that I'd be sad because of the lack of eyecandy, but nobody guessed that. I don't think. If you did and I forgot, drop me a line and I'll give you the prizefic xD

New question! Guess who the Hello Hydration shampoo was for. It's not as simple as it should be...

And since y'all were such sweethearts, you get a snippet for the next chapter!

"There were three things of which I was absolutely certain..."

**Notes - **

*technology - I don't own any of those things, so changed the names :3

*dream - I was reading Azumangah Daioh. Don't ask what the dream's for, you'll see later. :D


	5. yay for stupid explanations

**Disclaimer: I don't own APH or Twilight, nor any of the clothing lines or department stores mentioned in this fic. If I did, you'd know C: **

**A/N: **THANK YOU SO MUCH, EVERYBODY FOLLOWING THIS STORY. YOU GUYS MAKE INDUCE A BUBBLY FEELING IN MY STOMACH AND A GIDDY SMILE ON MY FACE WITH EVERY REVIEW, FAVORITE AND ALERT. :')

PHEW, NEARLY 6000 WORDS.

Oh, and the prizefic from last chapter - I'm working on it! OTL so much homework...not really, I'm just a lazy bitch. And, would you believe it - the hundredth reviewer was Kale Henderson - who, if you remember, requested this fic in the first place. :'DDD

...and actually, I'm kind of afraid that - while it does save my life writing this story - there's a fanmade Twilight timeline on the Twilight lexicon page. -twitch- but I'm not really following it, it's only good to tell me the events because I can't remember. FLASHLIGHT'S TIMELINE: JANUARY 14th, ROMANO MOVES TO FORKS. This chapter has a timeskip from his date with Russia, on the 26th, to FEBRUARY 10th. I totally just made those dates up, don't bother looking on a calendar because they're whatever I wrote them as, even though they probably don't correspond properly...those dates are chosen because I have to have the Twilight events wrapped up before March 17, which is Romano's birthday.

Romano's got horrible language, there's like an F-bomb every paragraph here; and also, this chapter's a bit more racy than earlier ones. No penis jokes yet, but that's because Prussia hasn't been formally introduced.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter 5 - let's have a toast to far-fetched explanations!**

February 10th dawned bright and beautiful.

Ffft, yeah right. Bright and beautiful, in this gloomy town? It was ugly as hell. Maybe a tree-hugging child of northwest America would think that the cloud-masked sunrise was lovely, but then they'd also find a wonderful pastime in cleaning up the beach.

To me - a born and raised Phoenix native - the grey sky and ice encrusted on my window were anything _but _lovely. It was so cold that I had the choice between nine blankets, which would totally do nothing for my skin, or wearing something to sleep in. So I'd gone shopping for pajamas which I knew I'd shed within ten minutes of getting into bed - not _that _way, you dirty lech - and managed to cut the number of blankets required down to three. Then I didn't like closing the window and was used to the sound of a fan all year round, so I'd had to pad to the closet and pull down another comforter one freezing morning; but otherwise, I was getting used to the abysmal weather.

Kind of.

But three blankets or five, I fucking hate Sundays.

I think it's that horrid feeling in the pit of my stomach I get whenever I remember that I have school the next day, but after living in Forks, I wasn't sure if it was the horror of facing another boring week or of facing Antonio.

...actually, the fear of Tonio's godawful love confessions paled in comparison to his Hungarian sister's adeptness with any nearby blunt object.

It had been a few weeks since I last saw Commie Jr. Antonio had returned to school and been too friendly for me _not to _be suspicious; he'd even offered to sit with me at lunch, but I'd flipped him off and gone to sit with Lieve. He'd laughed and kept asking every day for the past three weeks, even though I turned him down _every fucking day._

He was more annoying than door-to-door salesmen were, dammit.

Otherwise, school was same old. Mr Z liked me, I knew, more than his other students because I actually did my work; Miss Braginskaya, though, had grown a bit distant from me, and I wondered whether Commie Jr had spoken to her lately. The principal reminded me of my late grandpa.

My cell phone rang right about then. I didn't recognise the number, but I answered anyway, praying to God that it wasn't Antonio or Liz - or worse, Commie Jr with another date in mind. Never mind that I had his number on my phone; knowing him, he probably changed the number every day for no reason other than to surprise people. Like they answer and all of a sudden, _bam_, it's the creepy Russian.

...oh, God. Did I honestly just think of that outing as a date?

I thought of screeching a question to Ludwig as to where the bleach was - so I could wash out my mind, see - when I noticed my phone still ringing.

"Hello?" I was _not _shaking as I answered!

_"Hi, could I speak to Lovino please?"_ asked a sweet, cheerful voice I remembered to be the Seychellois - was that even the right term for someone from the Seychelles? - girl, one of the several Lieve had introduced me to after that first day. Madison? No, Madeline, that was it.*

What? It's not like we sat together at lunch or anything. I still only really talked to Lieve and her brothers outside of class, and I had at least one of them in all of my classes but 6th Biology.

"This is Lovino," I said with a smile, flopping back onto my bed because_ I wanted to_, _not _because my knees had been shaking so much that they gave out!

_"Hey! It's Maddy from school. You know, Lieve and I are planning to go to the Port Angeles mall today, and we need some fashion advice. Lieve says you've got it, so would you like to come? She would have called you, but she forgot to charge her phone and it's dead..." _I could hear Lieve's sheepish laugh from the other side of the line.

"Oh, sure," I agreed, rolling over to look at my clock. "What time?"

_"Hmm, we can come pick you up at 6, if that's okay? We can go shop and get dinner there before driving back."_

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll see you at six, then."

_"Kay!" _I hung up and stood, stretching and wandering downstairs in a t-shirt and pajama pants to make breakfast. The clock read 12:34, so I thought pizza might be good. Ludwig wasn't home, but because I'm so nice I decided to make him some pizza too. I mean, I wouldn't exactly be home to make him dinner, you know?

Shut _up_, it's _not _me going soft on my old man!

Five thirty rolled around, and I got up from the couch to go get ready. Within twenty minutes, I'd showered and done all that stuff, and my head was hurting because of a random-ass migraine - not because I slipped in the shower, dammit!

Whatever. I thought it was probably time to write Ludwig a note. So, dressed in skinny jeans and a long-sleeved black sweater, I pulled down the notepad from the freakishly high shelf that Ludwig tended to set it back on, out of habit of being a giant - seriously, he was like. 5'11" or some ungodly shit - and living on his own.

HELLO, POTATO BASTARD, I wrote, I'M GOING OUT TO PORT ANGELES WITH A FEW FRIENDS. EXPECT ME BACK AT LIKE 10 OR SOMETHING. THERE'S HOMEMADE PIZZA IN THE OVEN, JUST PUT IT IN THE TOASTER OR SOMETHING WHEN YOU'RE HUNGRY. I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU LIKE YOUR DAMN PIZZA! LOVINO.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. I grabbed my wallet and house keys off the table, and slipped them into my pocket as I opened the front door. Lieve and Maddy stood there, both looking cute and smiling widely.

"Thanks so much for agreeing to come!" said Lieve.

"Yeah, the dance is so close and we haven't even gotten our dresses yet," sighed Maddy. I laughed.

Huh? What do you mean, _'What dance?'_

Oh. Right, I totally forgot to tell you. Sadie's was coming up.

It was really only February and the dance was real far - or so I thought, because there was quite the gap between February 10th and March 4th. But apparently in Forks, time ran faster because for the past week, everyone had been running around all hectic-like, girls finding their crushes and asking to go to the dance together and - in most cases - getting crushed, if you'll forgive the expression, by rejection. I got to say, something about this too-green alien world made watching heartbroken girls into a form of entertainment.

Oh, boo hoo, I'm a douchebag. Sucks for you.

I'd been asked like five times already by girls who all blended into one horrifying blob of overexposed bust and plowed-on makeup, but I really didn't want to go; I'm a badass dancer, yeah, but who cared about school dances? There probably wouldn't be a party the day of the dance, which was a fucking drag as _parties _were the life of the night, not some prissy-ass Sadie Hawkins dance.

But whatever. Apparently, nobody else in Forks agreed with me, and all the juniors and seniors and promiscuous little freshies had gone and bought dresses already, from the crappy stores littering Forks like driftwood on a beach. It's not even like it was a loss of good clothes; these stores only had boring shit, after all, and it would seem that Forks girls were easy to please in the fashion department. Thank heavens for Lieve and Maddy, both of whom sympathised with my thought process.

Because, seriously, if the only fashion solace I had was from the Five Freaks of Forks, I would have died a month ago.

The town of Port Angeles isn't too far from Forks - about sixty miles or so on the 101. Of course, since it was the freeway, it's not like I kept to the speed limit. As a result, I'd reached the shopping center within the hour and the two girls with me had nearly started crying in fear. When we stopped, though, they cackled madly and said I had to drive home, too. A few minutes later, the three of us were searching for a nice store. It wasn't so much a mall as just several cobbled streets with cute little stores lining them. There were very few designer labels, but still lots of elegant and pretty designs on the mannequins lining the windows.

After the distressing reality that was the Forks mall, this was an oasis in a desert of people totally missing in the fashion department.

An hour and a half later, it was getting dark and we'd had no luck. One of the stores caught Lieve's eye, and we stepped inside, striding straight to the dress section. These ones were much nicer, of a good material, not too gaudy, and not too boring for the prices. Maddy was leaning more towards blue dresses, while Lieve liked soft, light colors.

And I'm _not _gay for shopping with girls, dammit! It's not like I was flicking my wrist and batting my eyelids and saying in a ridiculously high voice, "Oh, that's _gorgeous_!" or giggling with them at dresses that looked horrid. I sat there calmly, thank you, and just assisted them in choosing clothes. I'm not even exaggerating, dammit, I swear it!

Che. You assholes.

So I was against the window and suggesting that Lieve maybe try something light pink when suddenly Maddy bounded over, carrying this lovely white dress and grinning madly. Lieve stared at her, then me, and then snickered.

"Eh...am I missing something?" I asked, brow furrowed.

"Yeah! You're just sitting there," Lieve said through another snicker.

"Won't you try some on?" Maddy pressured.

I blanched. "Oh, no, nonono. I've had quite enough of crossdressing."

"Oh, you've worn dresses before?" asked the Belgian. "When?"

"When I was little, and my mom was designing dresses for kids," I said offhandedly, leaning against the window again.

Then all of a sudden Lieve hurled the dress at me. I shrieked as it hit my face. "Try it on, anyway!" she ordered, a dark look appearing on her face when I seemed about to argue.

No, I did _not _whimper in fear, because I'm a man and men don't whimper, dammit!

I stood, scowling, and pulled my shirt off in front of the window to yank the dress over my head.

"Have you no shame, child?" said someone else in the store. I held up a hand, middle finger raised, because I was currently tugging the dress over my head and couldn't see who'd said it. There was a collection of gasps and a little kid asking, "Mommy, what does that mean?"

Oh no, I'm corrupting the poor children!

Go cry me a fucking river, bitch.

I pulled my pants off too, for good measure, and both the girls with me cooed at how I looked.

Which, naturally, started a torrent of other dresses being flung at me. And you must remember, I was by the window, so people were stopping to watch me crossdress; I tried to move, but the two girls blockaded me in.

Why are girls so scary?

Forty minutes or so after that depressing episode, I decided that I might as well explore the town. Bidding the two girls goodbye and a promise to meet up at the restaurant, I changed out of the pink dress I currently wore and back into my jeans.

I gotta say, I didn't realize how cold my vital regions were until I had pants back on.

Outside was windy and cold, and I wished I'd brought a jacket. I'd have to settle for stuffing my hands in my jean pockets. There weren't too many people walking around alone - my cell read 9:20, after all. Just a few couples hurrying to a movie, groups of friends piling out of various stores and cafés, and the occasional straggler. I blew on my hands again to warm them up and shivered. It wasn't that cold, really, maybe just forty or fifty degrees Fahrenheit, but even after a week I wasn't used to the miserable weather in Washington.

My life had taken a turn for the worse, I feared: I'd gone from sunburnt to frostbitten.

I didn't notice the people following me until I found myself at an alley and wondering where it led, before seeing two people at the other end.

I was _not _afraid, dammit!

Obviously, the knot in my stomach was worry for - for whether the police'd catch me after I busted these guys' heads. Duh.

I shrugged it down and turned, planning to walk back the way I'd came, when a few more guys stepped out and blocked my way. I scowled and asked them to move.

No, dammit, it wasn't scowling to cover my shaking! Can't you assholes have _any _faith in me?

"Oh, don't be like that!" said another guy as I tried to push by them.

"You looked mighty cute today, trying on dresses," one drawled. I flipped him off, to catcalls and snickers; there were five people around me, all tall and American-looking. Another one gripped my shoulder and I winced, trying to slap his hand off; it didn't work, and the other four closed in. One grabbed my ass and the other stroked over my cheek with rough fingers.

And then it started raining.

_Duh. _

I mean, how else could that water have gotten on my face?

"Aw, darling's crying!" one snickered.

"I am _not_!" I spat, kicking one leg up and striking him in the stomach. He groaned and hunched over and one of them punched me on the jaw.

"Ooh, feisty!"

Too hyped with adrenaline, I just opened my mouth to command - not beg, dammit! - for them to get their nasty little hands off me, but one wrapped a hand around my mouth. I bit his palm and he hissed, slapping me across the face again. I let out a dry sob - er, a growl. Yeah, a growl.

Well, I don't have to explain myself to you, because right about then a car screeched around the corner, a gleaming graphite-grey car that I think was a Mercedes, I didn't really see. It circled and the guys scattered, jumping away from me and pushing me to my knees.

A-and, when the driver door flung open and Antonio stepped out, that was _not _insane, strange relief bubbling like hot water in my stomach! It was _obviously _happiness that I wouldn't be arrested for five counts of murder. Duh.

"Get in the car," he said in a cheerful tone, and I felt my eye twitch at how he could sound the same no matter what the occasion.

...and then I saw Antonio's face, and froze in place.

The guys around me all blanched at the completely murderous look on his tanned face. It wasn't even the kind of homicidal expression on hardened killers; it was more...well, I've described his normal expression and attitude, right? Well, this was almost the same, except...

Except his eyes were narrowed and dull, cold and furious. Except his teeth were clenched so tightly in a violent smile that it looked like he'd break right through his jaw from sheer pressure. Except that he was gripping the side of his car so tightly that the metal was crunching under his hand.

"W-whoa, man!" one of the guys said, raising his hands. "W-we didn't mean -"

"Yes, you did," said Antonio lightly, striding slowly over to them. They all backed off more, looking about to run, and he said, "I don't think running would be a good option. I'll just chase you all until you can't run any more, and I'll tear you limb from limb. Of course, it would be much easier for me to just run you all over now and get it over with, but that'd make a mess, and I'm not in the mood to peel spattered guts and crushed bone off the street tonight. I wonder how painful it must be to get dropped in a trash compactor? Maybe sliced open with scalpels until you bled out so much that you finally died?"

I could hear his threats - all uttered in that velvety, bright tone - perfectly from where I sat, and knew he must still be grinning.

And I _was not trembling_, okay?

One of the guys chanced a lash at Antonio. He caught the wrist and twisted it, turning the guy around and pulling out a howl of pain as I heard bone snap.

"Get the fuck out of here. If I catch you again, you'll find out just how painful I can make your last moments, hmm?"

They scampered.

Antonio stood there for a few more moments, shaking, before he turned and beamed brightly at me.

My jaw dropped as he bounded over, humming cheerfully and extending a hand for me. The...person he'd been just a second earlier was gone, completely wiped from his face, and he'd reverted to normal stupidity.

Or maybe not. After he'd shut the passenger door, he gripped the steering wheel so tightly that a chunk broke off.

A fucking _chunk _of the Mercedes' steering wheel, _crunched _under his hands like a spare scrap of paper or an empty soda can.

I swallowed.

He absently threw the chunk behind him - it clattered against the window with a crack - and turned to me, reaching out to touch my face. I didn't push him off, because he looked like he needed some comfort. I'm so nice.

It wasn't because I was afraid that shrugging him off would mean that I would find a chunk of my exquisite face missing too. Because I'm, like, never afraid.

"Please talk to me," he asked with a strained smile, not even watching where he was going but still driving perfectly. "I might go back and kill those men, and that wouldn't be good."

"What do you want me to say?" I snapped, looking away. "How did you even know where I was?"

"Ah!" he laughed a bit sheepishly. "Well, about that, I've been...um...stalking you."

I stared at him blankly. "...I'm going to pretend that's not weird. But - but why _were _you stalking me?"

We were at a light and he stopped, tapping long fingers on what remained of the steering wheel; he glanced at me from the corner of his eyes, and I flushed under the scrutiny.

Antonio heaved a sigh. "I don't know," he finally said, smiling again. "But I'm glad I did. Listening to what those creeps were thinking..."

I arched a brow. "Thinking? You psychic or something?"

"Actually, the term is tel - tele - telepathic!" he beamed. I scoffed.

"Yeah, and Liz can see the future," I rolled my eyes.

"She can, actually!"

...oh. _Right._

I groaned. "Do I want to ask how?"

"Uh, well, actually," he said, fidgeting a little, "I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Whatever." I was not pouting!

"I can't read your mind, you know," he said a few moments later. I looked at him, surprised, but we'd already pulled into the parking lot...of the restaurant...I was supposed to...eat at...with Lieve and Maddy.

Aw, fuck.

I got out of the car, hoping they wouldn't be too mad. On the contrary, they were standing and laughing by the entrance with white Styrofoam boxes in their arms; when I stepped over, they smiled apologetically and said they'd waited but then gotten too hungry and eaten. I just felt my stomach rumble and laughed to cover the sound.

Right when I think Lieve was going to offer to stay with me to eat, Antonio appeared, beaming brightly. She cut off, about to speak, and smiled instead. "Ohh! Well, we'll see you two tomorrow!" said Maddy, nudging Lieve. The two girls shot a generic 'Nice to see you' at Antonio and walked off, giggling a bit.

"So, shall we eat?" smiled the Spaniard next to me. I shrugged and followed him inside.

What? _NO_, I was not blushing!

And obviously, the only reason I tripped was because a stupid kid ran in the way, not because Antonio draped his jacket over my shoulders. _Duhhhh_.

In the restaurant, I flipped directly to the pasta section and ordered the first thing I noticed, along with an iced tea. Antonio didn't get anything, just beaming at me after the waitress left. I felt a little annoyed when I noticed her eyes lingering on Antonio - not because I was _possessive_, psh, _nooo_, but because she should have been staring at _me_, goddammit!

Antonio crossed his fingers and set his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his intertwined digits and staring at me with deep gold eyes.

"Whoa, man, did you get contacts?" I blurted out, a bit surprised by the bright color.

He shook his head and popped the P in, "Nope!"

"Eh. Are you really psychic?"

"Oh, yeah. Wanna hear some of our surrounding thoughts?"

I nodded.

What? It wasn't every day you talked to a psychic. Or a telepath, even though Antonio couldn't pronounce the damn word.

"Hmm...let's see!" he beamed, using his eyes to point at various people. "Sex...money...sex...sleeping...sex - wow, Lovi, these people are so perverted! They kind of remind me of Francis! Alcohol, more sex, sex, sex, and... his cats."

My eye twitched.

"I can read the minds of everyone in this room," he continued before pausing dramatically. "Except you."

"Me." I stated tonelessly.

"Yep. Dunno why, maybe something different with your mind?"

Mom had always said that I acted as though I were on a frequency different from everybody else's. I never really cared, but apparently it got me a free 'KEEP STALKERS OUT OF YOUR MIND' card.

The waitress returned with my plate and said something to Antonio, probably a pick-up line, as I dug in. He smiled and waved her away, then whispered (quite dramatically, if I might add) across the table: "Sex."

I snorted and choked on my pasta. When I looked up again, eyes watering, it was to a stupid grin on Antonio's face.

I hid my own smile with a mouthful of fettucine.

We drove home a little later. Antonio refused to let me pay for my dinner, and I shrugged, not too bothered.

In the car, he faced me all of a sudden and said, "I don't like rules, but I really like you. Lovi, I'm a vampire!"

I rolled my eyes again.

"No, really! Want me to stop and kill someone so you can see?"

"Er...no."

He pouted. "I can't think of anything else to prove it with...oh! You saw me break the steering wheel; I can pick up a car and throw it somewhere! Would my massive strength make you believe me?"

"...no."

"Umm...I wish there was sunlight, I could really show you."

"Uhh, I don't really know how _you _guys see confessions, but I'm not so keen for you to prove your worth by burning to a crisp."

He frowned. "We don't burn. We sparkle."

"...I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"Hee, Lovi says that often!"

"Don't call me that, dammit!"

"But really, I am a vampire," he said seriously.

I sighed. "Okay, say that for a moment I believe you. Does that mean the rest of your family are vampires too? And does it explain your freakishly handsome face?"

I mentally slapped myself as Antonio got this weird look, eyes sparkling and him looking about to cry with joy.

"Lovi thinks I'm handsome?"

He leaned over and hugged me, somehow driving with his feet.

"Okay, okay, get off!" I sputter - er, demanded, whacking him and wincing at how hard his skin was.

"But, yeah, Liz and Gil and Nat and all them are vampires too," he answered a few minutes later to my inquiry. "And I guess it answers your second question, too. I don't remember how I looked before I got turned."

"How long have you been a vampire?"

The Spaniard smiled. "That's a long story for another day. Now, let's just get you home!"

I grumbled.

When we got off the freeway forty minutes later, my eyes were significantly more weary, and I stifled a yawn behind the sleeve of Antonio's dark jacket. It smelled of tomato, and I sniffed it a little more before realizing that the guy was watching me with this - this - this totally endearing smile. I flushed.

Another few minutes and he stopped the Merc in front of my house, somehow getting out and dashing around the car to open my door before I'd even undone my seatbelt. He smiled cheerfully at me and I returned a scowl, climbing out and pointedly ignoring his offered hand. At the door, before I pulled out my house key, he tapped my shoulder.

"_What_, Antonio?" I growled, turning to face him.

Then I gasped because my lips were suddenly very, very cold, and something hard and velvety - oh, you filthy-minded pervert, not _that_! - was pressed against them.

I blinked in surprise for a moment before realizing that, yes, Antonio was kissing me.

"Fuck!" I gasped, jumping away. He grabbed my arm so I couldn't run, not to keep me from falling through the door's window, dammit!

Antonio was smiling. "Say my name again?" he pleaded, eyes wide and hopeful.

I looked away. Mom tried this on me all the time, I should be able to resist!

"Please?" Oh, fuck, he was suddenly using this sultry tone.

"Dammit, Antonio!" I hissed, wrenching my wrist from his grip and turning to unlock the door. I got the key in, and he reached around me, lightly grasping my chin and turning my face towards him. Before I could scre - er, shout for him to get off, he'd pressed our lips together again gently, his eyes closed. Then he swiped his tongue across my lower lip and pulled away, looking extremely giddy and making me want to slap him.

"Sleep well, _mi querido tomate_!" he called, somehow back by his car door and too far for me to sock him. I flipped him off, grumbling sourly, and unlocked the door, stepping inside. Ludwig peered around from the den, a frown on his face - probably because I was so late - but he didn't say anything as I dropped my keys on the table and took off my shoes, stomping upstairs.

I heard Antonio's car accelerate away as I neared my window.

Five minutes and a hasty shower later, I flopped onto my bed, totally exhausted for reasons I could not fathom. It's not like I'm old, I'm not even eighteen till this March and -

Oh, fuck, it's already February...

Whatever. Shut the fuck up, I'm still not as old as Ludwig, so _there_!

...wait, then, doesn't that make Antonio's kissing me illegal? He said he didn't remember what he'd looked like when he'd gotten turned, so that must mean that he was old as sin.

God. I don't feel like thinking about it.

Settling instead for snuggling into bed, I reached out to turn off my light, curling my arm under my pillow and closing my eyes.

A month after moving to Forks, I'd discovered a lot of stuff about the damn place. Their tomatoes were always fresh and the amount of rain was great for the small garden I'd begun raising; the video store had lots of good movies and horror flicks; most of the town was pitifully lacking in clothing sense - to name a few. The score now stood, Phoenix: 401, Forks: -283. It was a wonderful improvement from what it'd been on my first school day, but still not as good as Phoenix' homesick-making qualities. All I knew were trivial stuff and the sort of interesting gossip Lieve had told me over the course of twenty or thirty school lunch breaks.

But about Antonio, man. He was as complex as a history book. It'd be fun to ask him about that stuff, hopefully - because I had to admit that, while it was scary as fuck, the small glimpse into something _not _idiotic and obsessed with me (though that wasn't half bad either, I thought with a smirk) had been really interesting.

No, it wasn't _hot_! Can't you fuckers let a guy tell a story without asking ridiculous questions?

In fact, there wasn't much I knew about him. I could recall my knowledge of the Spaniard on my hands, and have fingers to spare. Like that he tended to stare at my ass.

No, really. While I might be able to count the things I had learned about his personality, I sure as hell wouldn't be able to do the same if you asked me how many times daily I caught him looking longingly at my rear end.

But really. Of three things I was absolutely certain.

One, Antonio was a vampire. A queer, _sparkly _vampire, but a vampire nonetheless. Probably one that wanted to kill me and drink my blood.

Two, he was just as psychotic as Commie Jr, but did a much, _much _better job of hiding it. His intense show of intenseness really was completely unexpected, to the point that it was scarier than if it had been from a seasoned murderer. Even later, thinking about it sent shivers coursing through my body like electric currents across wire cables. And no, it's because I'm scared of becoming his next dinner, not that I'm attracted to him or anything!

And three, he was flaming - and, in a twist of fate perhaps more disturbing than his vampirism or his apparent insanity, flaming for _me_.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, there we go. Thanks to Lily Winterwood for being such a sweetheart! I LOVE YOU DARLING :D

Oh, and this chapter question is - "I don't remember how I looked before I got turned." According to Spain, this was a long time ago, so guess what? This time you guys get to do a bit of research (or take a lucky guess, I don't care) and tell me which - out of the other countries in the KB family (Austria, Belarus, France, Hungary, Prussia, Spain, UK) - was older than Spain. Yay, research time! The criteria is, "Which area in Europe became an independent state, or ascended a throne, before Spain?" There's only one country older than Antonio according to this standard, so you might have to check some shit up. As usual, winner gets a oneshot of any fandom, genre, rating, and pairing (EXCEPT UK/CHIBIMERICA) that they want.

Thanks for reading!

**Notes:**

*Madeline - over on Facebook RP, my favorite Seychelles RPer has the name Madeline Desmerais as her character name.


	6. damn, you really are a pedo

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Twilight.**

**11-14-11 EDIT.**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - damn, you really ARE a pedophile**

The next day was a Monday, and so I trudged downstairs in my pajamas to get breakfast and make lunch before going back to change. While I was putting together a panini for Ludwig's lunch - not because I cared for his well-being, okay - the doorbell rang. Ludwig, who was reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, went to get it; he called to me and said that Antonio Carriedo was here.

I blinked, and he continued. "He says he'll drive you to school today, so -" And then he stopped on his own bloody accord, not because I had suddenly remembered that Antonio was a vampire and let out a blood-curdling shriek, okay?

He winced and sat back down. "Just telling you."

And no, I did not dash upstairs like the devil was after me so that I could change out of my pajamas. I merely wanted to look good for school.

Five minutes later, in jeans and a green t-shirt, I grabbed Antonio's jacket off my desk and returned downstairs, adding some finishing touches to Ludwig's lunch before picking up my house keys and screeching - uh, shouting a goodbye.

Antonio stood outside, whistling lightly under his breath. He looked - well, great as ever, I guess, in slim-cut jeans and an Abercrombie shirt. As I locked the door behind me, I felt his grin boring into my back, and knew he was beaming like I was the cutest thing he'd ever seen; I flipped him off as I turned.

I threw him back his jacket and he caught it with one hand, opening the passenger door for me with the other. The car today was this gorgeous red Mercedes - the one Liz usually drove.

"You have to let me take this car for a spin sometime," I said, sliding into the passenger seat and stroking the dashboard. "It reminds me of a car my mom has..."

Antonio turned to me with a wide grin, and waggled his eyebrows as he offered, "Sure, if you let me kiss you again."

I sneered. Looks like I'd have to wait till I could return to the garage at Mom's place.

Antonio drove fast, and we were at the school in a matter of minutes.

Getting out of the car, though...

I don't know exactly why, but for some reason, getting out of the car with Antonio - and feeling 300-something pairs of wide eyes on me - was more embarrassing than driving into my school at Phoenix in a $200,000 car, or getting caught by Mom doing some not-parent-friendly activities. You know?

Yeah. It was pretty ox.

I noticed Lieve's eyes on me, too, two wide emerald orbs following me as I got out of Antonio's car. For some reason, the dumbass vampire didn't seem fazed at all, and he smiled fondly at me as I walked around the car to meet him.

"Everyone's staring, bastard," I hissed under my breath.

"Well," he pondered, wrapping an arm around me in an iron grip too strong for me to squirm out of, "I'm already going to hell, so I might as well just go all the way." Antonio leaned in and kissed my cheek and everyone else stared in shock as I reached up to shove his face away, blushing furiously; bastard grinned like there was no tomorrow, and I would've punched him if I didn't think his abs would break my hand.

Lieve made a sort of half-hearted smile as we passed, and I managed one back.

When Antonio pushed open the door, I heard a loud wolf whistle from behind us. We turned, only to see the other members of the Kirkland-Bonnefois family, snickering at us from across the parking lot - the albino and Liz especially. Liz winked at me and lowered her white camera-phone, still grinning. It took all my strength - and desire to keep my limbs, that was pretty important - to not flip her off in response.

Of course, the small population at Forks High School meant that rumors and gossip circled faster than sex pictures did online, because by lunch, everyone who wasn't staring before was staring now. Liz bounced over to me and grabbed my hand, but I shook it off and hurried to the safe zone - AKA, Lieve's table. They hopefully wouldn't cause a scene in school.

Antonio, however, was not Liz. Right as I was sitting down, he came up out of nowhere and hugged me tightly enough to pick me up off the floor. I made this pained, choked sound, and he let me down, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and steering me towards an empty table on the other end of the cafeteria. Other people gave us a wide berth, girls giggling and guys looking as though, if they got too close, our - uh, Antonio's gay would rub off on them.

I ate my pasta slowly, watching Antonio to make sure he didn't try to rape me while I was preoccupied. Instead, he reached over at one point and grabbed my fork, taking a piece of tomato. I scowled and didn't stop him, but there was no way in hell I was going to let him feed me. He pouted, face falling so dramatically that I almost felt bad, and then - just to make him stop that horrid depressing look - opened my mouth for him to slip a pasta-wrapped fork inside. I scraped the noodles off with my teeth and chewed reluctantly, glaring and more embarrassed than before.

What? There is _quite _a big difference between letting a guy hug you and letting him feed you. They're both equally gay, but still.

Then he started tracing random circles on the back of my hand, while staring at me with this I THINK YOU'RE THE MOST ADORABLE THING SINCE SLICED BREAD look in his eyes, and I have to say - that is where I draw the line.

"Oh, you look like a tomato!" he said.

I stared at him, dumbstruck, for a second or two. And no, I didn't make an indignant huff, because only girls do that!

"Stupid idiot," I scowled as the bell rang. He grinned and leaned up, kissing me on the nose before I could properly get away.

Uggggh, PDA. I wanted to die of embarrassment, especially as I saw the tell-tale white camera flash and turned just in time to catch the Belorussian girl stowing something away in her bag.

* * *

A period later was Biology, and I think that it would have turned out as any other class that day had Mr. Z not had a weird sort of leave-your-personal-life-in-your-car idea about school. Thanks to his scariness, nobody asked a single question about me and/or Antonio.

Which, of course, meant that I could use the hour-and-a-half-long period to probe about the Spaniard's life while under the pretext of homework.

"So, tell me," I demanded, tapping my fingernails against the lab tabletop as Antonio returned from the front desk with the needed materials for the lab. He stared at me expectantly, eyes wide in question. "You said yesterday that you were old as sin, and I want to know how much of a pedophile you are before we start dating."

His topaz eyes lit up.

"We can start dating?" he asked in awe, dropping the papers on the desk and grabbing my face and kissing me all over.

Mr Zwingli shrieked, "UNGLUE YOUR FACES _THIS INSTANT _OR SO HELP ME GOD -" And I, really not wanting to know how many other metal meter sticks the crazy Swiss had in store, shoved Antonio off of me.

"Oh, _mi querido tomate_!" cried Antonio, ecstatic. "Of course, of course I'll tell you!"

I told him to stop screaming. People were staring.

With a wide smile, he leaned into the desk and motioned for me to do the same thing. Thankfully, he didn't try to kiss me again, but rather started working on the lab and whispering his life story to me as we did the experiment.

"So I can't tell you the _exact _date," he started, "but it was a pretty long time ago. It was - hmm, perhaps the tenth century?" I choked on my gum.

"T-the _tenth century_?"

"Yep. So...I'm, uh, at least a thousand years older than you."

"That's wonderful." I swallowed hard, struggling to force my gum out of my throat. "Continue." Even though I really, really wanted to ask how he could still have a Spanish accent after a thousand years.

Antonio reached over for the scalpel. We were dissecting pig fetuses, by the way; there wasn't any blood or else Antonio might have blown a fuse and started eating everything in sight. "It was so long ago. All I remember is that my older sister Leonora raised me, in the area that's now Barcelona. My father left my mother, and my mother died in childbirth." He smiled fondly, but I wasn't sure if he was smiling about his mother's death or about his sister. "When Leonora got married, I was nine, and I had a nephew - adorable little Nicolas.

"I don't know what I should tell you!" he admitted with a sheepish laugh. "Nothing too interesting happened to me. I was real empathetic, apparently, which was carried over into telepathy. The important part is that one day, someone in our village found a body completely drained of blood, and the men went to investigate. Leonora begged me not to go, but I had to. We split up, and when I was on my own I tripped and broke my wrist - funny, because I was never clumsy. But the smell attracted a vampire, who proceeded to bite me. His name was Francis, and he said he'd turned me because he simply wanted someone to travel with."

"Wait, Francis as in your _parent _Francis?" I blurted out. "He was the one who -?"

"Who turned me, yes," said Antonio with a smile. "He'd been a vampire for decades before me."

All I could think was, _why are they so old?_

"So he bit you, then," I stated. Antonio nodded. "Does the venom hurt?"

"The worst I've ever felt," he confirmed cheerfully. "Francis said I screamed nonstop for the first few hours." I twitched a little, but he carried on.

"Like I said, I can't remember too much about my life before then. Changing was...kind of like a fire that burned away all my memories. I never had a good memory, anyway. And I only know what I know because, after the turning period, I returned to see my sister one last time. Francis told me that people like us weren't accepted, that we'd have to keep moving in order to stay alive. Not that anyone could kill us, but Francis says when he turned me I was too freaked out to explain that we were indestructible. He went with me to say goodbye to my sister, who thought I had been cursed and cast me out."

"And you never saw your sister again?"

"Nope. But that's okay, I think she survived just fine without me." Antonio laughed. "So a long time passed. We traveled a lot, all over the world, to dozens of other covens and pairs and the occasional vampire on their own. But Francis and I have so much in common, we were never bored or tired of the other, and whenever we did fight we usually patched it up quickly."

I frowned. "Did you guys ever...you know?"

He blinked. "Ever what?"

Oh, God, this guy was an idiot. Living for a millenia and not knowing what I was talking about?

I made a rolling hand gesture, as if that would get my question into his head.

Antonio still looked confused.

"Bastard! Ever do him?"

And for a second, I thought he didn't understand _that_, either. Then he said, "Oh! Oh, _oh_, no. Nonononono!" And duh, obviously the smile on my face was from knowledge that he didn't have the backbone to jump somebody. Not because I was happy that he hadn't slept with his father-figure. Duhhhh.

"Once, when we were in Eastern Europe," he went on, "we came across a girl. She was -"

I stopped him here with a scowl. "I don't care about your siblings, they can tell me themselves. I asked about _you_, didn't I?"

And he looked so happy that I felt, oh, maybe I shouldn't have said that, because now he's going to profess love for me, real loud.

Then the bell rang.

I had no idea where the time'd gone.

"No, finish your story, dammit!" I grumbled as he stood, regarding me thoughtfully.

...hah! That idiot, _thinking?_

Antonio cleaned up the lab we had somehow finished, and turned to me. "I wanna take you somewhere," he said with a grin. "It's not too far. I think you'll like it."

I watched him warily, but then I shrugged. "Sure."

After all, if he wanted to tell me his life story so badly, he could. It's not like I was _interested _or anything. Where would you get _that _idea?

* * *

The place Antonio took me was rather off the beaten track.

He had switched cars with his albino brother after school, taking the black Jeep instead of his red Mercedes. That right there probably should have made me worry about what the guy was going to do to me - uh, where he was going to take me, I mean, but I was too awed by the Jeep.

What? I like cars.

So he'd driven down the highway, refusing to tell me anything more until we reached this mysterious destination. He turned off at a dirt path, following it down all the way to a dead end. He stopped the car and got out, jumping around to my side and pulling me out in his arms, and, in a very déjà vu-like moment - I kicked for him to let me down, which he refused.

And then I looked down and saw the mud.

Obviously, gremlins wrapped my arms get wrapped around his neck.

Antonio didn't seem worried about stomping in the mud and ruining both his shoes and his pant hems, but I was not of the same mind. He looked happy when I told him to keep carrying me.

Ten minutes of _hiking_ later, we arrived at a clearing. The trees circling were tall and leafy, and the overcast sky was clearly visible, but the interesting thing was that - just in this area - flowers, flowers of all kinds, grew on the ground. Everywhere else was just moss and weed - not that kind of weed, you druggie - and an assortment of other gross, squishy, pant-leg-destroying crap.

"Isn't it nice?" Antonio smiled.

I nodded. "Did you plant it?"

"Yeah, me and Liz!" he chirped. "The flowers tend to use up all the rainwater, so it's dryer than the rest of the forest." He dropped me to my feet and took my hand, striding into the middle of the clearing and sitting down. He patted the ground next to him.

I stared, disgusted.

I guess he took it another way, because he beamed and his eyes sparkled and he reached for my hands again, pulling me into his lap.

And the birds in the surrounding trees left because they wanted to, not cuz I screamed so loudly that they were scared shitless.

Antonio had me sitting with my back pressed against his chest and his chin rested lightly on the top of my head. I...guess it was comfortable. Sort of.

He still had our fingers intertwined, his arms wrapped around me, but I squirmed my hands loose and absently started stroking the velvety skin of his palms. His skin was freezing, but my sweater kept me warm; he really was hard to the touch, like diamond with a layer or five of silk draped on top. I couldn't see him smiling, but I heard it in his voice as he kept talking. I had to have him remind of where we were.

And no, it's not because he smelled so good that I was distracted, okay?

"Umm...well, if you only wanted my history..." he trailed off, thinking a bit. "I'll have to skip out about eight or nine hundred years, then."

Hearing him talk about centuries as though they were seconds made me twitch a bit.

"By early fifteenth century, the family was already what it is now. Francis was the oldest, of course, and he turned me and Nat; sometime in the thirteenth century, though, he left, and we didn't see him for a hundred years or so. Nat and I had a _thing_, though, so it didn't matter too much."

"Good _thing_ or bad _thing_?"

He fidgeted. "Good _thing_. It was pretty short, though - just like a year."

"You tapped her? For a _year_? Damn. She's pretty hot, I'll give you that."

"You aren't mad?"

I scoffed. Like I could begrudge someone for something like that. "Hell no. Do I look like a prude to you?" I'd only be pissed if he said he'd been banging guys before me.

Uh, I mean -

Laughing, Antonio pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Anyway, around that time, Francis wasn't with us. Occasionally he dropped by, usually with another vampire or two in tow. He brought Gilbert first, and half a century later he brought Liz and Roderich, but he never told us where he spent the rest of his time." Antonio paused. "Not until he came back with Arthur, anyway. Arthur was a weirdo even then - guy said he could see_ fae_ and _creatures of the earth_ and stuff. But Francis loved him, and so did everyone else, and he grew on us. He's like our surrogate mother now."

"Did you spend any time in Spain?" I asked.

"Yeah. During the Spanish Inquisition, I frequented the dungeons." I twisted to see him; he was smiling wistfully, eyes distant. "And I was on a journey or two to South America."

"But when you were in the sun? You said you...sparkle?"

Then, as if we were sitting in a cheesy chick flick, the sun came out.

And I swear, those damn birds are just pussies, flying away all the time. It's not like I screamed again, no.

Antonio laughed at my reaction, and lay on his back so he could reach up and undo the buttons on his shirt. I was amazed; when he said he sparkled, I thought he meant like a glow. But this...

"Do you fucking _bathe _in glitter glue?" I choked out, raising a hand to cover my eyes as the sun lit his skin up as though he'd been rolled in glass shards or made of diamond or something like that.

Antonio had unbuttoned his shirt by now, and he pulled it off. I reached out and touched the skin of his chest before I realised, _oh, hey, I'm touching him in a perverted manner while sitting in a perverted way_.

Yeah, because I had turned to see him and ended up straddling his hips.

So I jumped to my feet, face red.

"Huh?" Antonio sounded confused. "I can't hear what you're thinking...what are you thinking?"

"If I throw a tomato at you, vampire bastard, will you still sparkle under the sauce?"

He laughed and lay on his back on the clearing ground. "Come back over here, won't you?" he asked. I scowled but moved back, sitting on his shirt to keep my own from getting ruined by the mud. Antonio rolled onto his side so he could look at me easier.

"What are you thinking?"

"Huh?" I looked up from where I'd been staring at his chest. In the space of my thoughts Antonio had moved closer and was now sitting Indian-style, just an arm's length away from me.

"I can't hear your thoughts," said Antonio with a smile. "It's infuriating! Can you tell me?"

I stared at him, one eye twitching.

"That you sparkle too much."

Then all of a sudden, a shiver ran through my body and I jerked back, biting at my lip before I knew what had happened. Then it happened again, and Antonio said, "Whoa, Lovi, what does _this _do?"

"H-hey!" I rasped hoarsely, trying to swat his hand away and cover my violated hair curl. "D-don't touch that!"

"But why not?" asked Antonio, oblivious as ever as he reached out. I used my free hand to push him away, but he caught my wrist gently and set it down next to me. Taking my other hand away from my curl, he held both of my wrists in one hand, and I cursed his inhuman strength as his free hand reached back towards my face.

"A-ah!" I hissed as he flicked the curl.

"What _is _it?" he asked, a shit-eating grin spreading over his face. "Why's Lovi blushing?"

"D-don't call me that, bastard!" My face burned, and then I realised that it must be raining, because there was water on my face.

It's not like I was crying out of shame or anything, duh.

Antonio jerked his hand back, eyes inquisitive. "I'm hurting you, aren't I? I'm sorry!" He let go of my wrists and watched sheepishly as I lifted my shirt to dry my face. His shit-eating grin hadn't faded yet, and I had the feeling he knew _exactly_ what he'd done to me.

"Sorry," he apologized. I sighed, exasperated, and curled my knees up so I could rest my head on my knees, a makeshift barrier between me and the creepy vampire trying to molest me.

"Can I try something?"

I arched a brow and lifted a hand protectively over my hair curl.

"Not that! I already hurt my poor little Lovi." He reached out and carefully held the sides of my face, smiling and pulling me close enough that I was jerked into a crawling position. I opened my mouth to argue, and he kissed me full on the lips.

When we pulled apart a moment later, I was still in shock, and he was grinning giddily. He pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him, and wrapped his arms around my waist as he kissed me again.

And I swear to fucking God, it was the gremlins that pushed us over.

All of a sudden, I felt a raindrop on the top of my head.

No, really. I'd been a bit too...absorbed...to notice the sun cloaked by clouds, and it had started to rain. Antonio looked up and I opened my eyes.

"Fuck!" I swore. Antonio was on his feet before I'd even finished the word, and he picked him up, swinging me onto his back and leaving his shirt lying on the ground. We were back at the car before the rain really thickened, but when we had gotten back on the highway the water was pouring down. Antonio was still shirtless.

I only noticed because I was wondering if he was cold. Not because I was staring at his abs. Duh.

"When did you all come to the States?" I asked him, watching the passing forest.

"We have homes all over the world, in cloudy, rainy areas," he said. "We were in Alaska for a while before we came down here."

"And when you were gone?"

"I went back up north to a couple others like us. 'Vegetarian' vampires, anyway," replied Antonio. "Three sisters, Valentina, Renata, and Camila. I don't know why, but they keep touching me...it's rather frightening."

God, he really _was _an idiot.

"But I've been waiting for you, Lovi," he said, a sincere smile lighting up his angled face. "I've been waiting for you for more than a thousand years."

I felt oddly flattered.

* * *

Ludwig wasn't home yet, and the clock only said 7:30PM. I pawed through the fridge for the stuff I needed to make fried chicken - hey, just cuz I'm Italian doesn't mean I don't eat anything but pasta and pizza, dammit - and, a few minutes later, I dropped the chicken into the pan with hot oil. I pulled my neglected homework out of my bag and sat at the kitchen table to do some of it.

Or try to do some of it, anyway. I got up after a few minutes to check the chicken; it wasn't done, but I couldn't think so I went and cleaned up the kitchen. I'd managed only a few math problems - and because I was tired and the chicken smelled amazing, not because Antonio kept popping up in my mind. I sighed and put my half-finished work away, deciding I'd just copy from someone later. Another check, five minutes after the first, showed the chicken to be cooked, so I pulled it out with tongs and set it on a plate I'd covered with a folded paper towel. I set the pan of hot oil into the oven, to let it cool.

Some quick math told me that it was morning in Italy, so I decided to give Mom a call.

He answered after three rings._ "Lovi!" _he said happily_. "How have you been, mia cara?"_

"Good," I replied. "How's Italy?"

_"Cold!"_ said Mom. _"But it's nice, I think. How's Forks? How's Luddy?"_

"Ugh. Mom. Please don't call him that."

Mom laughed cheerfully.

"He's okay, I guess. Better since I showed up and started cooking for him."

_"You're taking care of him?" _Mom sounded ecstatic.

I flushed. "N-no, I'm just - I make food for myself, so why not for him too? Stop _judging _me, Mom!"

_"V-vee! I wasn't judging you!" _wailed Mom, and I sighed.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, Mom."

_"So, do you miss me enough to want to move to Venice?"_

I swallowed. "Actually...Forks, it's growing on me." When Mom was silent, I added, "Not in a good way! It's like a tumour on my heart, you know?"

_"Oooh! Does a giiiirl have anything to do with that?"_

How could Mom sound so young? Damn. I'm 20-something years younger than him but I sound like his older brother. "...uh...well, a boy, actually."

_"Taking after your momma, I see?"_

I facepalmed. "Y-yeah." Poking my chicken, I decided it was cool enough to eat. "Ah, Mom, I'm gonna have dinner. I'll talk to you later?"

_"Yep! Ti amo!"_

"_Ti amo_," I responded before hanging up the house phone and walking over to grab my plate from where I'd left it, by the stove.

* * *

A few hours later, I woke with a jolt. I slept in only a t-shirt, because years of sleeping without pants alienated me to that idea; I got up to go to the bathroom, and on my way back I glanced out the window and noticed the police cruiser in the driveway. The clock on my table said 2AM, so I climbed back into bed and reached to turn off my light.

Then I saw a figure by my desk, and grabbed the closest thing next to me, prepared to lob it at his head.

"Lovi!" said Antonio cheerfully.

Wait, what? I lowered the alarm clock slowly, barely believing my eyes.

"Antonio?" I managed in a hissed whisper. "What the fuck are you doing in my room?" The window was shut, and it latched inside; there was no way he could've gotten in without me hearing. "How'd you even get in?"

"The window," he said innocently.

I stared at him, horrified. "H-how? It's locked!"

"_Sí,_ it is," he said, pushing off the wall and slowly stepping closer. I watched him warily.

"Um, why are you here?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"I like watching you sleep."

...ooookay then. "You come in every night to...watch me sleep?"

"Yep!"

"Don't _you _need to sleep?"

"No," he laughed. "We don't sleep."

"Like, ever?" Weird. So much free time, if you didn't sleep.

"Never. But if I had to choose between sleeping and watching you sleep, I'd rather watch you!" That sounded a little more than vaguely creepy.

"Thanks? I think?"

Antonio lay down next to me, and I rolled over to glare at him. He beamed and opened his arms; I regarded him icily until he moved forward himself, pulling me into a strong hug and holding me close. My face pressed against his chest, and I shivered.

"Fuck, you're cold," I hissed.

"Sorry," he said with an apologetic smile.

I was silent for a while, and then Antonio started humming, reaching up to stroke my hair.

Fearing a repeat of earlier, I slapped his hand away and rolled over.

* * *

**A/N:** ...remember in the end bit, Romano doesn't have pants on. -winkwink-

**notes on the edit.** Originally, I had specific details that corresponded to the dates on which each country was settled, but then I changed it. Look at the remade ch7 for more details. :)


	7. extra 1: so put your arms around me

**Disclaimer: Nope**

**A/N:** _EXTRA, EXTRA - COME LOOK AT THE HEADLIIINE! HISTORICAL NEWS IS BEING MAAAAADE _PART 1.

FOR HASEGAWA, WHO REQUESTED SOME BACKGROUND DETAILS ON THE FRUK HISTORY.

**11-14-11 EDIT**

* * *

**Extra 1 - so put your arms around me and hold**

One nondescript spring morning, the youngest of four siblings wakes to find his oldest brother gone. His sister, the second-oldest of the group, worries her fingernails but does not slow their trek toward the coast; his other brother, the smaller one, declares the missing sibling a fool. The youngest speaks not, and merely looks to his sister for directions. The creatures of the forest guide them, wings fluttering, little voices joined in soft chimes.

His brother never returns.

Two years later, his other brother vanishes, and finally, he finds himself totally and utterly alone one clear morning. At ten years of age, he knows how to hunt and clean game for himself; he can't cook very well, but he knows how long meat should be kept on the fire, and he knows how to dispose of any leftovers so that other animals don't come looking. His brothers disappear often, and his sister taught him from a young age that he must never depend on them for anything, so when he wakes up, he trusts that they will find him when they need to. Then he looks around, gathers the necessary supplies, and starts walking as the forest dictates.

He never reaches the coast, for he comes across a small settlement that envelops him into their arms. A woman with a smiling red mouth holds him close and croons lullabies to him at night. She calls him Arcturus, like the star, because his eyes glimmer so brightly in his round face, and when he shows her the salves and medicines he can make from the herbs and plants available to him, she cups his cheeks and says that he must never show anyone else. They won't understand - to them, he is already a fae of the wood and the sky. He is already different, and he mustn't draw their attention.

She becomes Mother, and he grows under her care. Mother ages, but never seems to show it: her smiles never stop and her hands, rough as a cat's tongue, don't wrinkle with time. Her hair grays only a little, but most of it remains as long black tresses, flowing over her shoulders and down her back like a waterfall at midnight. The other villagers call him and his skills, his unmatched talent for hunting, blessings.

He knows he isn't, of course, because he's been surrounded by real fae his entire life. The others don't see them, but he and his family do - did. He knows he does, but all he remembers of his family is his sister. He long, tumbling auburn curls, her glimmering green eyes, the freckles on her cheeks contrast so sharply with the olive skin and black hair of his new family. His two brothers blur into each other, and he can't discern who had red hair and who had brown hair, who had blue eyes and who had gray eyes. Eventually, even his sister fades from his mind, and all he's left with are a handful of old songs, the songs his sister sang, the songs Mama sang before that. It's all he remembers of Before - before Mother, before Arcturus. When it was just him, his siblings, and the fae.

Now Mother is the only tangible thing he has, so Arcturus clings to her tightly and relishes in her strange, harsh tongue. He learns her language, but he never forgets the one Mama taught him, and he catches himself humming old tunes every now and then.

* * *

Mother falls sick one icy winter morning, and it seems she ages years in a matter of hours. Arcturus is much older, having spent twelve summers as her son, and now he stands tall and strong. A woman with hair brown as the dark earth and eyes blue like the sky lives with him, has lived with him for four winters, but their union is fruitless and loveless; he pushes her aside easily as soon as Mother begins coughing up blood.

The disease spreads across their settlement, killing most and scarring the rest. His wife dies, but Arcturus shows no signs of the disease at all; Mother struggles each day, and when she can no longer move, he decides to break the one rule she told him, all those years ago.

In the forest, he gathers his materials instinctively. He knows what she needs, and he knows how to make it; as long as she survives, he'll face the consequences. Lighting a fire, Arcturus starts his work. Once or twice, he thinks he sees a woman with red curls and red eyes, skin white and lifeless, but when he looks up a split-second later, nobody stands before him.

But a child watches him with big brown eyes, and when he turns to face her, face lit demonically by the flames, she screams and runs off to the men of the village.

He doesn't mind her, too intent on his task, and when he finishes, the gathers the powder in an animal-skin pouch and rushes back to Mother. She wheezes, and coughs, and he barely gives her the cure she needs before men grab his arms and yank him back.

_Witch!_ they accuse, jeering and screaming and tying his arms behind his back, and Arcturus pleads, begs with them to just save Mother. He has the cure, and he knows it, but they think he's killing them.

Logs pile up in the center of the village, and he watches with horror as they bring out the flint. He kicks and shouts as they bind his limbs and gag him with a bit of old cloth, strapping him to a pole and propping him up in the middle of the bonfire, and someone leans over the strike the flame -

- and he watches as Mother, old and frail and so very tired, hobbles toward him, the pouch clutched tight in her hand, but he doesn't know what she does with it. He never knows, because orange and gold flicker in his peripheral, and he smells smoke.

The fire grows slowly, but when it reaches him, the agony is unlike anything he's ever felt before.

It starts at his feet and legs, burning its way up. His skin blisters and his blood boils. The cloth of his clothing ignites, but the rough material frays rather than spread the heat; he twists, and every desperate inhalation shoots smoke down his throat. Then, it licks up his long legs and chest, spreads over his arms, and he writhes, screams barely muffled by the gag. His eyes are closed, squeezed shut, and the tears escaping them evaporate almost instantly in the impossible heat.

He's going to die.

Then, miraculously, the fires fade. Arcturus can't feel anything anymore, his pain receptors burned and ruined beyond repair, but he feels phantom pressure where someone holds him. He opens his eyes, but smoke burns them, and they water as he squints to see his savior.

Red eyes meet his. He hears a soft crooning, melodious and whispering, and he recognizes the lullaby as his eyes slide shut of their own accord.

Far too soon, warmth returns to his arms. Like a poison, it spreads through his veins and up to his chest, increasing in temperature with each passing second, and it soon becomes unbearable.

He opens his mouth to scream, but all that escapes are a few whimpers.

* * *

Eventually, Arcturus can think again. The pain increases as time goes on, but he can count the seconds - he can feel pressure over his forehead, fingers, the occasional fall of hair on his forehead. He knows who it is, and his sister sings to him as he contorts in pain. Occasionally, he hears his brothers speak in the old tongue, and it's like they never left him.

His skin prickles, and the burn fades minutely from his toes and fingers, from his limbs, from his face, all gathering in his chest, and he screams into someone's lap and grips their rough clothing as the fire inside him escalates.

Then it stops, just like that, and he feels frozen. He feels like he'll never be warm again, but he finds it preferable to burning.

He opens his eyes, but keeps his gaze on the cloth covering his sister's stomach as she finishes her song.

"We've missed you so much," she tells him quietly.

A sort of power buzzes through his body, and his dry throat aches. He knows what he wants, and he sits up. His sister looks both completely different and exactly like she looked all those years ago: her red-brown tangles of hair gleam in the overcast light, and her freckles stand out dark on her white skin. Her eyes shine burgundy, and he knows his own must be a rather ghastly shade of red themselves.

His brothers help him up. The elder grabs his shoulder and yanks him to his feet; the other grips his hand, lips spread in a wide, white smile.

At some point, they clothed him, but all he wants to know is whether the village is still there. He struggles to understand his siblings when they respond.

"Of course," remarks the older brother.

"We wouldn't ruin your fun," adds the other brother.

"Take your time," advises his sister.

And he takes his time indeed. He takes his time walking to the village and he takes his time terrorizing the survivors; he takes his time chasing them all down, and he takes his time tearing them apart. Mother is nowhere to be seen, and the fae, clearer than they ever were when he was human, whisper of her succumbing to the disease.

Where he should have felt pain, he feels nothing.

He focuses on quenching the burn in his throat, and when his siblings arrive hours later, they commend him for his neatness.

* * *

_Arcturus. _He likes his name. His siblings do not.

The elder one scoffs. "Arcturus? Filthy Roman name."

"Romans have sweet-tasting blood, but that's all I'll say in their defense," sniffs his sister.

"Mother named me after the star, fool. The guardian of the bear."

Shaking his head, the middle brother concludes the argument. "Well, if you like that name, you keep that name. I'll call you Arthur."

His sister regards him thoughtfully. "Arthur. Hmm. I like that."

Arthur.

"Then it's settled. What do I call you?" says Arthur, testing out his new name. The fae giggle their approval, and one of them lands in his palm when he stretches out his arm. He strokes her wings delicately, finally able to see the fine spiderweb designs and the gauzy texture; her eyes gleam red, and her demonic little face twists with mirth. He decides that the fae are far prettier like this, despite their monstrous features.

"Éile," says his sister. His older brother, the one with red hair, calls himself Kieran, and the brunet brother says he's Aeron.

It's strange, to call himself something other than Arcturus.

* * *

Years pass. People come and go. Arthur and his siblings remain in the mountains, in the wood, surrounded by the fae and the mythical creatures; he also sees the creatures brought by foreigners to their land, and knows them.

Kieran speaks of a woman with pale hair who bit him that day, decades ago. He changed Éile when she was old enough; Éile changed Aeron when _he_ was old enough; and they left Arthur, still a child at the time, to fend for himself, just for a few more years. Then Mother found him, and he looked so happy, but Éile stayed, prepared to come when Arthur needed him. She saved his life.

"If you call this life, that is," Kieran laughs bitterly. "It's immortality - unrestricted power, unextinguishable existence - but it's not life."

Arthur doesn't know why he remains in this borderland, but he does.

* * *

Then he meets Francis. The man is charming, blonde, and strength radiates off him, but his eyes are gold.

He watches Arthur stalk a woman and her husband, prepared to kill them and sate his hunger. Francis shakes his head sadly.

"That is life," he says simply. "It is a shame to snuff it out."

Arthur pauses, and thinks. Francis sees things so differently. "Humans killed me. Isn't it fair that I kill them?"

Francis sighs, but does not move to stop Arthur as the smaller man lunges in for the kill.

* * *

When they kiss, it feels like - like - unlike anything he's ever felt before.

It's so _right_, and he knows immediately that Francis is why he stayed alive.

(As if he ever doubted Francis' role in his not-quite-life.)

* * *

"You should come away with me," suggests Francis one day. Arthur lays in his arms, the top of his head slipped easily under Francis' chin. Moments like these - small, quiet, peaceful - tell Arthur how much he loves Francis.

But he's afraid of leaving. Frowning, he considers his siblings, and his eyes fall to the silky material of Francis' tunic, abandoned next to their entwined bodies. "But I can't leave them."

Francis tightens his hold around Arthur's waist, and doesn't speak.

* * *

Arthur decides. Éile approves, and so does Aeron, but Kieran - Kieran, who has always been the toughest of the four, always looking out for them all, always ready to die for them - sneers.

As he prepares to leave, Éile tells him that if Arthur ever needs them, he knows where to find them. Kieran will come round, she says. Just give him time.

Arthur holds her tight, and takes Francis' hand as they leave the mountains.

* * *

The taste of animal blood is repulsive, after hundreds of years spent living off humans.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," berates Francis as Arthur gags over the liquid.

Arthur drinks it anyway, and the slight sense of approval he sees in Francis' eyes encourages him to do so in the future.

* * *

"I love you."

"I... uh... I'm hungry."

* * *

Somewhere along the line, Arthur sees a child struggling to outrun a bear. The kid, blue eyes big and terrified, relax as soon as Arthur sweeps him up in his arms and carries him to safety, and he stammers out a nervous thank-you.

Arthur finds he likes the feeling of doing well for someone other than himself, and when he tells Francis, the Frenchman merely smiles.

* * *

Francis is the only person who calls him Arcturus. Arthur calls him a frog.

* * *

Francis has a large family. All of them are younger than him, but Arthur is technically the age of the second-oldest "child". When Arthur meets the other five, they immediately start calling him _Mum_.

(How, exactly, a Frenchman and a Briton can produce a Spaniard, a Slav, a Prussian, an Austrian, and a Hungarian, Arthur does not know, but even though Antonio is about as bearable as a human infant, the lot of them grow on him, and he's okay with that.)

* * *

**A/N: **As you can see, it's totally different from the original version of Arthur's story - and for good reasons. You'll find out in Lampshade. ;)

**notes:**

1. Arthur is called _Arcturus_ by Mother because she is indeed Roman, corresponding to the period of time where the Romans dominated most of Britain; Arcturus, the brightest star in the Ursa Major constellation (the great bear), was named by the Ancient Greeks and also used by Roman astrologers, and is a potential root of the modern name _Arthur_.

2. Kieran = Scotland; the name Kieran is spelled differently in Gaelic and Scottish, but I decided I'd just anglicize it anyway lol. Éile = Ireland; that's a traditional Irish name, according to various sites. Aeron = Wales; that's the masculine version of the name of a goddess.

3. No names from Before, because I didn't want to have to use weird names. Maybe they're all children of the forest and they don't need names or something? Idk, just don't think too much on that lololol


	8. are all pedos this cheesy?

**Disclaimer: Nope :(**

**A/N: **GOD, LONG A/N IS LONG.

So ja, I started writing this before I uploaded ch6, and was done before I started the omake xD

It's kind of short compared to the 6000 word monsters I've had the last few times, this one is only 4000 words or so. BUT THERE'S SO MUCH FLUFF YOU'LL GET DIABETES

Here, more story and Spamano. We get Romano's life story (TEEHEE), Spain bullying Romano into doing the tarantella with him, and PRUSSIAAAARGH /shot

The necrophiliac joke is credited to_ I am a purple crayon_, btw :)

And _pi-or-pie _said something in a review that made me feel the need to clarify: SMeyer never went into epic detail about Edward's powers, so I just assumed that he read minds like, he heard everyone's but could focus on just one or two - as though he were standing in a room with a bunch of people that voiced their every random thought. Just in case y'all were wondering!

Finally: the pairings! I sometimes get reviews asking about who's with who and whatnot, so I thought I'll just save y'all some worry. Alice/Jasper = Hungary/Austria; Carlise/Esme (or in this case, Esme/Carlisle) = UK/France; and Rosalie/Emmett = Belarus/Prussia.

Then, guys, **there's something important I gotta ask you about. Please check the endnote**, because I gotta tell you some stuff and inform you of other thingies important to the story, okay? ^.^

Hope you enjoy!

Oh. And Prussia is POPE AWESOME /shot

* * *

**Chapter 7 - damn, are all pedophiles this cheesy?**

"So, how'd you end up here?" Antonio asked me during lunch. We were sitting at the empty table again, and Antonio had insisted on feeding me. I let him only because I'm nice, not because his pout made me wanna cry and beg forgiveness, okay? Bitch.

That wasn't even the creepy part; I could feel his jean-clothed legs rubbing against mine. Part of me wanted to whack him for public indecency. Especially as he wrapped his legs around mine and twisted them so that if I tried to stand I'd fall right over.

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Why'd you move to Forks?"

Shrugging, I said, "Mom."

Antonio looked enthralled as he popped another forkful of pasta into my mouth (with an annoying-as-fuck HERE COMES THE TRAIN! face, might I add). "Tell me, please?"

I sighed. It wasn't like I could say _no_. What if he got mad and killed me or something? I quite like being alive, thank you very much.

"Well, my parents are divorced," I said with a shrug. "But you know that. I lived in Phoenix most my life -"

"How come you're so pale, then?" he interrupted, reaching out to stroke my cheek. "You're so fair, like a woman."

"WHAT?"

Antonio laughed and motioned for me to continue.

I scowled at him. "While _you _might not burn in the sun, _I_ do," I deadpanned. Antonio blinked and laughed. "I burn like a bitch, so I try to avoid going outside on hot and sunny days because then I can't even wear long-sleeved shirts. Everyone thought I was a cutter until we went to a water park for a sophomore trip and I ended up burnt all over."

Antonio laughed again, so I threw a piece of tomato at his face. He dodged, of course, but didn't stop laughing. "Asshole! Finding fun in other people's pain!" I snapped.

He grinned cheekily at me. "Well, I _was _a conquistador."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, bastard. If it makes you happy, the burns I'd get were agonizing and wouldn't fade for weeks. But otherwise, I loved Phoenix. Mom made pasta all the time and he was more prone to random siestas than me. I swear, every afternoon at 2 o'clock sharp, Mom would just fall to the floor and sleep for an hour or two, no matter what he was doing."

Antonio looked a little confused. "Wait, your mom's a man?"

I scowled. "Don't judge, bastard."

"How'd they have you then?"

"At a clinic, dumbass." I was shocked; this guy'd been alive for a hell of a long time and he was still a total idiot. Just my luck.

He looked like he didn't even know there were clinics for that sort of thing.

"Isn't your dad a doctor?" I asked dryly.

Antonio nodded. "But I never listen to him!" he chirped.

I rolled my eyes again. "Whatever, you're just an idiot. But they got me at a clinic. I look almost exactly like my mom, except that he has much lighter hair and skin and his eyes are brown."

"But I like Lovi's hair," he interrupted yet again, and for a second I thought he was going to try and touch my eyeballs or something. "It's as beautiful as your eyes." At least this time it was a compliment.

And no, my stomach did not flip because of it!

"Can you stop interrupting?" I scowled. "I can't exactly relate why I'm here if you don't shut up long enough for me to explain."

He grinned and leaned over the table, propping his head up on the back of intertwined fingers and and watching me with this disgustingly sappy look in his topaz eyes and a happy smile on his face.

"Everyone says my mom's cuter than me, but in a sort of stupid and innocent way," I continued. He looked about to interrupt, so I glared.

Antonio pressed his lips shut and made a show of not saying what he wanted to say. I had just opened my mouth to go on, and he burst out, "But nothing could be cuter than my Lovi!"

"I swear to God," I hissed, fighting the flush on my face, "that if you don't _shut the fuck up _-"

"Okay, okay!" he exclaimed with a laugh. "I'm sorry!"

God_dammit_, man. Why were _all _my girlfriends and boyfriends sappier than a tree?

I waited a few moments to make sure he wasn't going to say anything more before I continued. "God. Well, I lived with Mom in Phoenix until a little while ago. But my _nonno _left Mom a mansion in Venice when he died, so, uh, I guess Mom wanted me to get some bonding with Ludwig - my dad - because all of a sudden, Mom's saying that he wants to go check out the estate in Italy before I move over there, and I said that I would come stay up here until he figured everything out. That sort of obligation to get off people's hands, you know? And don't interrupt me, goddammit," I added hastily. He pouted, but kept his silence and simply reached for one of my hands. "Fuck, you're cold," I muttered with a frown; the Spaniard grinned but kept stroking the back of my hand.

"So that's pretty much it. I came up and found that sparkly fucking vampires live here."

"Will you tell me about your childhood?" he asked. I scowled again, and he ran his thumb over my knuckles. "Please?"

He had this adorably pleading look on his face and I wanted to slap it off, but instead I settled for telling him the entire damn story.

"God. What the fuck do you want to know, then?"

"Everything!" he beamed. "I've told you stuff that I've never told other people, like about my sister. Can't you tell me about your childhood?"

I sighed. There was really no way out of this.

But I wanted to punch myself in the mouth, because I'd suddenly turned into some girly, wimpy, distressingly non-snappy ghost of the proud asshole I was only a few months earlier.

Fucking boyfriend.

"Man, not all of us had such good memory," I grumbled.

He looked at me expectantly, which was really more a giant =D expression than anything else, and I glared at him.

"Huh...I had choreia when I was little, and Mom thought that fast dancing would help me out. So he put me in hip hop and jazz classes, and got me an Italian dance tutor to teach me the tarantella."

"You dance?"

"One of the best," I said proudly.

"Why aren't you on the dance team?"

"Oh, please," I scoffed. "Here? That's like telling a professional to take classes with five-year-olds. But whatever, I'm a wonderful dancer because Mom thought that would help. I guess it did, because the choreia went away, but I don't know if the dance lessons did that or if it was just something else."

Antonio was grinning again, and I scowled. "What, laughing at my misery?" I grumbled. He lifted my hand and kissed the back - I absently registered the coos of delight from two certain, beautiful girls across the cafeteria and lifted my other hand to flip off that general direction.

"You've got to dance for me sometime," he said happily. "Liz says that I'm a great guitar player, so I can play and you can dance!"

"Sure," I said smugly. What was wrong with showing off my amazing skill?

Then Antonio wanted to hear all these other stories about me - travels to other countries, dance recitals, school life, my first girlfriend - before he asked me about my mafia.

"Oh, I hated them," I said offhandedly. "It's not like I could quit, because I was practically their head, but I still didn't like it. I was always worried about what might happen to Mom if they got mad at me."

"You're strange," said Antonio and I hurled my Coke at his head. He caught it in such a way that the drink remained in the can, and he set it down in front of me. "No! I don't mean that in a rude way," he said with a sheepish grin. "It's just -"

"Just _what_?" I snapped, crossing my arms and refusing the pasta he tried to feed me.

"Most people I know would be worried for themselves over their family!" he grinned. "You're such a darling, Lovi~"

I sputtered. A _darling_? _Me_? What the fuck kind of idiot called a _guy _a darling? Before I could shoot back some badass reply, the bell rang, and Antonio leaned across the table to kiss my forehead.

"Aw, you look like a tomato, _mi querido_!"

I scowled deeper and stood. "Asshole."

* * *

I had one of the highest grades in bio because I'm brilliant like that. Antonio, for all his stupidity, was the top grade, and I wanted to headbutt him. I would have, if he'd not had skin of stone. So I settled for giving him the silent treatment and reveling in the the fact that I was the only person whose mind he couldn't read.

Heh.

By the end of class, Antonio looked close to tears. From one class of me ignoring him? Damn, I needed to do this for a week. The result would be freaking hilarious.

He drove me home, like he had for the past few days, and when we reached my place he pinned me against his car and practically ate my face off. I half-heartedly whacked my fists at his chest until he let go, probably realizing that I needed air. I guess a thousand and a half years of not breathing could mess with someone's brains, and it wasn't like Antonio had much of them to start with.

"I'll never get enough of that!" he practically squealed, hugging me in a way that would have hurt even if he were human.

Since he was a vampire, I choked and thought I heard a rib crack before he let go.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, kissing my nose.

I swatted him away and pulled my house key out. He reached a hand out and covered mine, eyes alight with some new idea that I was already fearing, and said, "Hey, I want to take you to meet my family."

I arched a brow. "Your violent, sparkly, bloodsucking family?"

"That's the one!"

So I thought, _Why not?_ "...let me call Ludwig." Before I'd even finished, Antonio had whipped out his cell phone and dialed Ludwig's number, handing the already-calling phone to me and looking about to explode with gay happiness.

Ten minutes of speeding and winding driveways later, Antonio pulled the car up in front of a lovely house in the mountains. I don't think that it was in Forks, so to speak, because there were like five miles of fucking driveway into the mountains first. Weird.

But it was a really pretty house - big and open with lots of glass windows and a pale color scheme. I guess the lack of protection was because it'd probably be more than a little hard to either kill or sneak up on a vampire - if not impossible.

"Wow," I breathed; he grinned, wrapping an arm around my waist after he opened the car door for me. "It's pretty."

"Arthur and Francis designed it," he said, and I frowned.

"The doc doesn't come off as very artistic."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," said Antonio with another dazzling grin. "I think he's already got the plans for our wedding done."

I turned red. "Gay marriage is illegal."

He grinned. "There's always Vegas!" I scoffed and started walking towards the door.

Inside, I was immediately assaulted by the smell of Italian food, and I couldn't help but smile happily. I hadn't had proper Italian food since I came up here; Mom usually cooked the long recipes. Antonio frowned. "Oh, I told them not to do this..."

I could hear the kitchen television and the clinking of crockery and knives from the hall as Antonio led me to the kitchen entrance. It was a nice kitchen. There were huge windows all around the walls that showed the painfully green outdoors, and it smelled delicious; more interesting were the people in the kitchen - four painfully beautiful people of various ethnicities (if their features said anything). Two of them - the doctor and the albino - were sitting sullenly at the table, one flipping through a magazine and the other leaning his chair back and forth in boredom.

"Ah, _mon chéri_!" said one of them, a blonde with a strange beard that was more like blonde stubble, and wavy hair, who was wearing a blue shirt hanging half open to show off his ample chest hair. He turned to the other person in the kitchen section - the platinum-haired girl, who shrugged and strode over to grab the pan. That didn't seem good, and I tensed as Frenchie vanished and reappeared in my face. "You are just as cute as Antoine says!" He reached out and probably meant to grope me, but Antonio stuck a hand in the way and smiled at Frenchie, who backed off with a pout. Then he flipped his hair (and I swear sparkles flew out the at ends), and said, "_Je m'appelle Francis. C'est bon de vous rencontrer_."*

I twitched. "We're in America. Speak English, dammit." Yeah, sure, I could translate half of it because of the similarities to Italian, but still.

Frenchie frowned again, and the others in the room burst out laughing.

"Suck it, Francis!" said the albino, grinning at me. The doctor came off as a stuffy old man, because he immediately "composed" himself and acted as though he'd never found it funny. Francis sighed dramatically and slunk back to the stove, to take one of the pans that the blonde girl was minding.

Antonio had wrapped an arm around me again, and said, "Okay, this is Lovino!" I rolled my eyes. As if they all didn't know who I was.

The albino twisted in his chair and shot a two-finger salute at me. "I'm the totally awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt, but you can just call me 'Your Awesomeness'," he declared with a smug grin. He was the only one in the room with red eyes, and his shirt was red enough to match. Eerie. I wondered why his eyes were such a vivid crimson when all the others had eyes of varying shades of gold.

"Don't get your hopes up," I said dryly, and Arthur snorted. Gilbert shot him a sour look.

"He'll survive if you call him Gil," supplied the girl at the stove as she carried a sizzling pan towards the table. Scraping what looked like fettuccine onto a waiting plate, she smiled at me and said, "I'm Nataliya, but Nat will do."

"Like a bug!" snickered Gilbert. Nat shot him a death glare and he added hastily, "But a really _awesome _bug!"

I'd kind of stopped breathing for a second, because she was so lovely - but in a strange way. Like, I felt as though I should sacrifice myself to protect her, even though she would no doubt survive anything thrown at her. "And by the way, you really _do _smell good," she said offhandedly, grinning at Antonio. "Like tomatoes and rain."

Francis laughed, some weird, vibrating sound that grated on my ears. "My, Nat, turning on your charm already?"

The girl had an expression that was probably either embarrassment or fury, but still managing to appear completely blank; I was sure that, if she could, she would have flushed in one of those two emotions. She settled for the prettiest scowl I'd ever seen, and throwing the now-empty frying pan at Francis (but in a sort of aloofness that looked as though she had simply chucked it over her shoulder and accidentally lobbed it at the Frenchman).

How violent.

Ignore the fact that I would do the same thing.

"But _I_ smell more awesome, right, baby?" Gilbert asked hopefully from the table.

Nat stared at him blankly and turned back to her pan.

Gilbert slammed his fist on the table and dropped his head down in dejection.

"You know who I am, lad," said the doctor, not looking up from his magazine. I had the feeling that the prior event was very common in this dysfunctional household.

"We made _Italiano _for you," said Francis with a smile. "I hope you're hungry."

"I'm sorry, but I already ate," I said with an apologetic smile before scowling at the man next to me. "Antonio here told me you guys didn't eat, so I ate in the car."

Nat had just handed Gilbert a glass bowl, and the albino frowned and gripped the bowl so tightly it shattered. "Oops," he said, though he didn't look at the mess. Nat whacked him upside the head, and I winced at the dull thud that echoed in the room.

"Don't be a prick, Gil," said Arthur. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"What? We spend all this time cooking and it turns out the guy's already -"

"Hey, hey," I intervened, sneering and crossing my arms. "Blame this idiot, not me."

Antonio beamed happily. "It's not like you had anything else to do," he laughed.

"It's not like you even cooked," corrected Nat, sighing and kneeling to scoop up the shards of glass still at Gilbert's feet. "You're just as bad as Arthur, I swear." Gilbert smirked and she punched his leg hard enough for me to hear a crack.

Damn, they really were violent.

Gilbert was pouting as he clutched his injured leg. "We could have fit in a quickie or two."

I mimed gagging. "Totally did _not _need that mental image." I then looked around, and wondered aloud, "Don't you have two other sparkle-pires hanging around here somewhere?"

The albino cackled at the word. Arthur looked a bit mortified, but didn't say anything in favor of glancing towards the window.

As if on cue, there was a slight snapping outside and I glanced at one of the windows to see two slim, high-heeled feet stepping lightly on the tree branch right next to the glass. I felt my stomach drop as Liz leaned down to slip right through the open window, landing gracefully on the tile floor and bounding towards me for a hug. I tensed; would she try to kill me again?

She didn't, thankfully, settling instead to just wrap her arms around me tightly and squeeze once before letting go.

Damn. Even her boobs were hard. How'd I not noticed before?

"It's nice to see you again!" she said cheerfully. "And don't let Gil bully you. He's just bitching because Nat's banished him to the sofa." The light-haired girl across the kitchen grinned and shared a knowing look with Liz. "But that's Gil's fault for not meeting the quota, so..."

"Please refrain from bringing that up in public, Liz," Arthur said with a grimace.

"Yes, please do," sniffed a new voice, soft and rather prissy sounding; another man in dark slacks and a grey sweater had entered the room the same way Liz had, and now stood next to the brown-haired girl. Oh, hey, it was Constipated. Remember him?

"You're such a _girl_, Roddy," snickered Gilbert rudely. The brunet scoffed and pushed his glasses back up his nose, glancing at me.

"He smells good, doesn't he?" Liz jabbed him in the gut. "And isn't he cute?"

Antonio frowned. "Please don't think like that, Liz." The girl in question giggled sheepishly.

"Oh, this is Roderich," She added. "We all call him Roddy though."

"As long as you guys don't call me Lovi," I bit out.

"Yeah, because that's _my_ nickname for him!"

"Exac - _what_? No!" Everyone else in the kitchen snickered.

"Well, we're going to go now!" chirped Antonio, wrapping cold arms loosely around my neck and resting his head on my shoulder. Liz squealed and in some creepy twist of fate, Nat did as well. Somehow, the two girls had moved right next to each other in the second it took Antonio to move, and had their hands clasped as they jumped in joy. Liz made a sort of pleading sound at Antonio, who laughed huskily and pressed a kiss to the side of my throat. The two girls squealed again, while I batted the fiend off, blushing (and scowling at Antonio's trademark, "You look like a TOMATO!1!one! -squeal-")

Faghags. A sense of their "quota" - which involved at least the straight couples, if the others' grimaces and/or apologetic looks were anything to go by - made itself known in my mind, and I shuddered in fear.

Before I could worry any more, Antonio had taken my hand and dragged me away.

On one of the walls of the halls was this giant...picture frame, I think it was, except that it was filled with row upon row of graduation hats, organized by scaling colors from bright red to deep violet. I stared in open shock.

"Wow."

Antonio laughed. "We've graduated hundreds of times, from colleges and high schools and even universities along the way."

"That's horrible," I grimaced. "Going through high school and college so many times?" I frowned. "How do people even believe that you're in high school?"

"Most of the time, people are too dazzled to notice that I look like I'm in my twenties!"

That was...kind of creepy.

"You're even more of a pedophile now." Wait...I scowled again in realization. "You're technically dead, right?"

"Yep!" He had a humorous grin on his face, as though he'd already considered what I was going to say. "That makes me a pedophile and you a necrophiliac!"

"...well, to each their own, I guess."

Antonio's room was large and furnished with only a long, bright red sofa _that had tomato pillows _and a tall black cabinet whose racks were stuffed with CDs. There was a collection of guitars in cases over by the far wall, and I couldn't hold back the smile upon realizing that it wasn't just red polka dot print on the walls, but _tomatoes _of various shapes and sizes scattered all over.

The brunet had flitted to the guitars, and selected a deep brown acoustic, dropping onto the sofa and tuning it quickly. Then he looked up at me expectantly.

I stared at him and made a rolling gesture with my hands, telling him to explain.

He responding by strumming a few notes for the tarantella. I grinned and picked up the tambourine on his table.

I'm good at most types of dance, but tarantella is my specialty. A few minutes later, Antonio stopped playing and clapped wildly.

I scowled. "Bah, you've been alive so long that I bet you could do it better than me."

He shrugged, but stood and put a CD into the stereo before turning back and extending a hand to me. I stared at it dubiously, especially as tango music - _tango _music, dammit! - began playing.

"_Fuck_, man! You're the cheesiest person I've ever dated."

Antonio brightened. "We're dating?"

Oh, fuck it.

I shrugged and took the hand still hovering in the air.

* * *

**A/N:** YAY SPAMANO FLUFFFFFFFF :DDDDDD

Okay, this was basically just a filler, but...well, it was a fast update, right? I had it done the evening of ch6's upload, but then I wanted to quadruple-check it because last time, I didn't get to have it beta-read and one of the scenes was originally written for Romano's bedroom, but I shifted it to the clearing - a big thanks to _Lumoa_, for pointing that out! Then I got the req for the omake, and this got a bit more put off, but still. /shot

This chapter question is - guess the quota. You don't have to get it all, but I'm asking you who the characters involved are and what the quota itself is, not the number of whatever needed to fill it. Also! You guys, thank you so much :'D I get to give out the **200th reviewer prizefic**, now. As for the other prizes! I've got two of those fics done, I'm hoping to upload them all quickly after I finish Flashlight - unless you'd prefer them later this week?

THANK YOU SO MUCH, LILY 333

**AND NAO, THE IMPORTANT THINGY.**

I've got FOUR in-plot chapters left for this story, and it's all planned out. So I've got to ask you - should I make a sequel? A sequel would be like a Romano-ized version of New Moon, with some cracky title I'll spend a while on, and will be up maybe two or three weeks after I post the last chapter of this fic.

So basically? If I make a sequel, I'll end up Hetalia-fying the entire Twilight series. I've got lots of faithful followers, all of whom I love so much and would hug if I could; if I did the next three books, would you read them?

I'll put the poll up on my profile page. If you guys could vote, I would love you forever because I need to read through New Moon again and make my notes and plan out a sequel before school gets too intense.

Okay, that's it. Thank you so much for reading!

**Notes:**

*French - My name is Francis. It's great to finally meet you!


	9. Ch8, It's Called Soccer OMAKE2, Hun POV

**Disclaimer: Nope~**

**A/N:** AAAAGH 227 REVIEWS? Oh my god, guys, I love you all so much :'DDD thank you all for reading!

So this...I'm so sorry that it's late ; ; I meant to get it up last week, but the days passed so quick and I forgot to finish, and was lying in bed Thursday night (my granny takes away my laptop at 10PM :( ) when I remembered all, "OH SHI-"

And so, to try and win you back over, I tacked on the omake of last chapter, which is the first bolded title hither. It's the -drumroll- dancing scene, from Hungary's POV. ;D

Baseball was changed to soccer, because really, Spain in a football jersey is much sexier than in a frickin baseball outfit. y/y? /shot

I wrote this entire chapter by hand over a six hour drive. Took me two hours xDDD Austria's a little OOC, but that's just because I need to get him and Romano on good terms. ;D

The answer from last chapter - quota = Prussia and Austria providing the girls with a set amount of PrAus per week.

This version isn't edited, but I'll print it for Lily to do on Monday. Sorry!

* * *

**OMAKE 2: At Least I'm Psychic**

God, this is great~ being psychic is totally wonderful, because then - even when certain brothers don't call and warn that they're bringing over their too-cute-for-words lovers and by consequence don't give enough time for certain young ladies to set up proper cameras - I could see Lovino calling his father and telling him that he was going to visit his boyfriend's family. Nat helped me set up the cameras before we went down to cook. Ehh, it was a bit of a pity that Lovi'd already ate, but that's fine. Gil has to clean up, anyway.

Actually, I do wish that I could go watch the streaming video, but Arthur seems to have some weird idea that families should all sit together till cleaning is done. And Gil is probably dragging this out purposefully. That bastard, he knows how much I like seeing the live stuff!

Ugh. Douchelord.

Well, at least we've got super hearing. From where we are downstairs, I can hear every last motion going on upstairs (and see in my mind's eye the ones that I can't hear!). Lovi's really adorable, all flustered and totally the perfect uke; the look on Nat's face shows that she agrees completely with my sentiments.

But, yeah. Nat also prefers to see the real-time videos, but we all decided that, since he made the mess, Gil was to clean up. Unfortunately, even with the whole amazing vampire mind-cataloguing thing, he's really bad at cleaning. Anyone else would've had it done thirty seconds in, but it's been two minutes and he's still trying to put away the pans.

Yeah, he's just that stupid.

And - whoaaa, is that Lovi? Oh, it is. Man, that's really fast...how long has he been dancing? The guitar sounds like a tarantella, is he doing it on his own?

DAMN YOU GILBERT.

Gil at least has the decency to whistle at the fast pattering of Lovino's feet against the floor of Antonio's room.

"Damn, that's fast even for me," Herr Albino proclaims in awe, tilting his head up to hear a bit more clearly.

"Everything's fast for you," Roddy comments dryly, fixing his glasses and crossing his legs daintily.

Gil snickered and leaned his weight against the island in the middle of the kitchen, shooting a leer at my darling boy. I can hear his perverted joke before he makes it. "Mein Liebe, want to elaborate on that?"*

Okay, I take back my previous statement. Lovi might be adorable, but nobody's as cute as my Roddy~! If he were human, he'd be flushing.

Nat and I share a glance, and she says, "If you two go on that way, perhaps you can reach your quota...?"

Gil looked all for it, and even though he's stoic, I'm pretty sure that even Roddy wants to at least cuddle me again(I can't say that _just _cuddling would be enough for Gil, he and Nat are damned sex addicts. The 12-step kind that makes living with 'em unbearable.) but the quota's far too important. And besides, worst comes to worst, Nat and I've got loads of choices (including, but not limited to, one another), but those two have nobody but their hands and each other~ and a full box of condoms. Because even though we can't get preggers, the feeling of certain white liquids dripping down your legs is rather disgusting. Not when it's on my darling Roddy, though...mmmm...

Oh? What's that...the music changed? When?

Nat shoots a terrified look at me. If Tonio had put on the _tango _music, then -

"No, before you ask, you may not leave until Gilbert is finished," Arthur interrupts our mental despair icily.

"Ебать! Just this once, please?" Nat pleads, turning to Arthur.* God, I already know he's gonna refuse, that bastard.

Arthur glares at her and straightens out the home design magazine he holds.

"Francis!" I screech, turning to him and about to beg him instead.

He raises his hands helplessly. "Sorry, _mon ange_. My hands are tied."*

"GILBERT, HURRY THE FUCK UP. I DON'T WANT TO MISS THIS!"

He grins cruelly.

"BASTARD. YOU MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE BASTARD FROM HELL."

_~later~_

The video was fucking sexy.

They started making out halfway through.

_[*German - "My darling..."  
*Belorussian - "Fuck!"  
*French - "...my angel."]

* * *

_

**Chapter 8 - it's called soccer, dammit!**

Two days after I met the family, Antonio called (a word which here means, 'broke in through my window while I was sleeping and stared at me until I woke up') and asked if I would like to go with them to play soccer the next afternoon.

"Soccer?" I asked, arching a brow. "Vampires play soccer? Since when?"

He grinned. "I love football and Liz saw a thunderstorm coming. That's the only time we can play."

"I'm no good at -" (Well, actually, that's a lie. I'm pretty damn good, but I don't think human skill's got anything on damn sparkly leeches.)

"You don't have to play~ you'll be ref with Roddy!" he exclaimed.

"Guess he's too prissy to dirty his pants," I scoffed._ Or maybe his ass was too sore_, I thought as Antonio smiled knowingly.

"So you'll come?" asked Antonio hopefully.

I scowled. "Sure. But not cuz I like you or anything, you bastard."

Fuckdammit. I must be getting rusty in my old age if nobody's depressed by my words.

The following morning, we went to school same as usual. At lunch, Liz grabbed me before Antonio could, and dragged me to their table, where she and the other four vampires proceeded to stare at me while I ate.

Just a little creepy.

I noticed that Liz and Nataliya were both back with their respective lovers, a set of chestnut and honey brown next to one of shocking silver and platinum. Roderich's occasional wince (always when Liz leaned against him too much) and Gilbert's responding smirks proved my earlier theory right.

I didn't know vampires could get sore.

"So, you'll be playing with us, right?" asked Liz, pulling me out of my musing. Gilbert snickered at her phrasing and she must have kicked him under the table, because he yelped.

"I think so," I said with a shrug. Antonio grinned happily next to me.

"Great," said Liz with a wide smile and a giggle.

"At least you don't have to see Gilbert trying to play baseball," Nataliya finished with a laugh of her own.

The brunet next to me snickered (_not _cutely, dammit!) as Gilbert, nursing his shin, whined, "Come on, I'm better than Arthur at least!"

The others glanced at each other, then away.

"Seriously? You guys think that old man is better than the awesome me?"

"You both suck dick at baseball," commented Liz.

"And in real life," I added with a smirk as he glanced between Roderich and Gilbert. Both looked aghast, though Liz and Nataliya burst out cackling.

"I think we're all going to be a great family," said Nataliya with a comforting smile. Liz winked at me.

Damn. If I knew I was so compatible with vampires, I could've saved five years of life being afraid of them.

Er, I mean -

* * *

The field where they played soccer was big, grassy, and muddy. Antonio had picked me up in the black Jeep I'd seen Gilbert driving before, and told me to wear shoes I didn't mind ruining. I grabbed a pair of boots and yanked them on as Ludwig returned home.

Then came a very awkward conversation that went something like this.

_"Hey, Ludwig, that's Antonio."_

_"We're dating!"_

_"You're one of Doctor Kirkland's boys, ja?"_

_"Whoaaa! How'd you know?" (Can you hear the grin? I swear to God that I could.)_

_"I heard that all his adopted kids were foreign. You look...Spanish, perhaps."_

_"So true!"_

_"So, you're dating my son?"_

_"Yep!"_

_"Well, take care of him, then."_

_"Sì!"_

Awkward, cuz I'd never introduced someone to Ludwig before. What if he went all psycho-German and tried to shoot Antonio? Not that I cared, but still.

And when I brought my first girlfriend home, Mom had spazzed and made pasta and started planning my wedding dress.

Yes, _my_ wedding dress. He's got this weird idea that I should wear a dress too at my wedding.

But Ludwig's bearable meter rose 10 points for that easy going attitude, and Antonio and I were out the door in a few seconds.

And yeah. The field was muddy and gross, but I walked so that Antonio wouldn't be able to molest me. Because it's not like I _wanted _him to.

When we got out of the car, Antonio pulled a striped jersey over my head and wrapped me up in a red jacket. Both my parka and the red muscle shirt he wore under his black sweater had the Spanish flag emblazoned on them.

"What the hell," I deadpanned. He beamed and kissed me on the lips.

Somewhere to my left, Gilbert - or maybe that was Liz... - wolf-whistled, and I pulled back with an indignant sputter.

All the others, too, were wearing soccer outfits with shirts too tight (to the point that Liz was almost wincing) and shorts that accentuated their asses (especially in Antonio's case. But if you tell him that, I will fucking cut you); they had knee-high socks and their hair brushed out of their faces. Gilbert was sitting on the ground as Nataliya pinned his hair off his face with several cutesy little yellow hairclips that had yellow puffball chicks at the clasps, and the two girls had twisted their hair into messy knots. And they were all wearing different nations' flags. I recognized France, England, and Prussia, before Antonio pointed out Hungary, Belarus, and Austria.

"Why don't I have an Italian jersey?" I scowled.

Antonio grinned. (He really did a lot of that.) "Because you're supporting me, of course!"

About then, Roderich - in the red and white split jacket - walked over to us and said, "First match is Nat and Liz; their winner will play the winner of Arthur and Gilbert's game. That winner will play Francis, and then that winner will play you." It sounded really confusing to me, but Antonio nodded and Roderich turned to me. "Do you know the rules?"

"Yeah," I sniffed. He sighed, looking relieved that he wouldn't have to explain anything.

"Call them as you see them."

"Sure."

A couple minutes later, Liz and Nataliya stepped onto the crude field Gilbert had outlined by dragging his nails across the dirt. When it started, I was shocked by the speed of the damn game.

"Our matches finish very quickly," supplied Roderich as he saw my open jaw, "because we move fast. Two forty five minute periods are cut down to two ten minute periods where the goal is to end in possession of the ball."

"There aren't any points scored?"

"If one can kick the ball between those two trees at each end of the field, we count one point. But that's not common."

Roderich, keeping track on Gilbert's iTouch, called, "Time!" when the period was over. Liz and Nataliya scraped over the field with leafy branches to level the ground, like a Zamboni on ice because of all the deep scuffs. The match restarted twenty seconds after it was stopped.

The two girls played cleanly, and Nataliya had possession when Roderich announced the game over.

The next match, however...well, it was a dirty bitch to call fouls from Gilbert and the doc, because they were both insanely fast. Roderich shouted out penalties every five seconds, it seemed. "It's easier to tell fouls if you look for the jersey colors," he explained. "See, there - Gilbert's jersey is black and white, and Arthur's is red and blue. When monochrome colors blot out the red -"

"Foul!" I shrieked.

Roderich nodded in approval.

Gilbert shot four goals against Arthur's one, and when Roderich called time, it took Liz, Francis, and Antonio to keep the enraged blondie down.

The next match was Nataliya against Gilbert. I wondered aloud why Antonio hadn't played yet.

"He's our reigning champion," said Roderich. "I don't think he's ever lost -"

"Cuz he's got nothing - or nobody - to do except play soccer!" cackled Gilbert.

Gilbert beat Nataliya through possession (even though it looked as though he would lose when she 'tripped' and her shirt slid up for a second. Liz snorted at Gilbert's expression) and did the same against Francis. Antonio bounded over a second before his match and hugged me. "Lovi! Wish me luck, won't you~?" he sang, kissing me sloppily.

Liz giggled as I grudgingly said, "Yeah, yeah," and kissed him on the cheek. Antonio radiated gayness and pulled me into a tight hug.

"My Lovi's so cute, just like a -"

"Don't you _dare _fucking say it!"

He smiled and kissed me again before letting go and skipping off (no, literally. He skipped like a five-year-old) over to where Gilbert was waiting.

After seeing the determined look on his face, I had no doubt he'd win. Roderich dropped the ball in the middle of the field and walked back over to where I stood before whistling and starting the match.

I tried looking for color blends again - black or white over red or blue was a foul - but they moved too damn fast. I groaned and left it to Roderich, who called fouls every couple seconds again.

With twenty seconds left on the clock, Antonio still had possession but suddenly kicked it off the field. Gilbert let out a groan of annoyance and turned to shout when he saw Antonio's expression and turned to see Liz.

Liz cried out, "Stop!"

In a flurry of terribly clashing colors - no, really. Red over orange? Ugh - the others all flitted over to where Roderich, Liz and I stood. Antonio grabbed me and started kissing me sloppily but desperately as though trying to see how many times he could kiss me in a minute.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered over and over again. for once, Liz and Nataliya weren't grinning. "I shouldn't have brought you."

"They _were _leaving, then they heard us," informed Liz.

"'They'?" I questioned.

Francis sighed and turned to Liz. "Is there time to get Lovino out of here?"

"No. They've almost reached."

Antonio wrapped an arm around me and pulled that happy smile back on his face as three figures appeared in the fog across the field.

Two of them were tall, maybe 5'10 or '11, although the third looked a fair bit shorter than me. As they came closer, their features became clearer: the tallest had a strange mask over his eyes and wore a green hoodie, the other tall one looked sleepy and wore a t-shirt and jeans, and the third wore a black sweater with a glittering gold choker-like piece around his tanned throat. Mask and Pipsqueak were darker skinned than the other brunet, who looked about to fall asleep.

Of course, all of them were vampires.

Oh, _that _was why Antonio had spazzed, I guessed that these were the ones who had been terrorizing north Washington.

I didn't tell you? Sorry. Well, people from various nearby counties had been going missing for weeks, and the po-po thought it was due to animal attacks because when the bodies turned up, they were mangled almost beyond identification. I had overheard Ludwig talking about them earlier that week; one of the autopsy results was "drained of blood". When I asked Antonio, he said that it was because of foreign vampires. Gilbert was the only family member who drank human blood, and his deal was that he only hunted humans that nobody would miss - homeless people, orphaned children, etc. Never people with families or friends, according to Francis.

So comparing these three burgundy-eyed vampires with Antonio's reaction, I thought it safe to assume that the trio were responsible for the murders.

Sleepy spoke first.

"I am...Herakles Karpusi. These are...Gupta Muhammad...Hassan, and Sadiq Adnan." As he spoke, Sleepy tilted his head first towards Pipsqueak (who _maybe _came up to my chin) and then to Mask.

I wondered if they could tell whether I was human, or if Antonio's -

Oh, ugh! Antonio had basically _spat _all over me! Eww!

Francis smiled amiably. "It's nice to meet you, _mes amis_!"

Herakles nodded slowly. Everything about his was slow, from the way he glanced from person to person, to the way he opened his mouth to respond.

"We heard a...game, and wondered...if we could join."

The way that Francis looked at us - as if he were seriously contemplating Herakles' request - was great acting, almost as good as Antonio's fake smile. Francis sighed and turned back to the newcomers.

"_Je suis très désolé_, but we we were planning on leaving."

"Just one game?" asked the small one with a pretty smile and annoyance flickering in his blood red eyes.

Arthur grinned coolly. "Just one game, then," he agreed, flashing a glance at Antonio. "You can fill in for a few of us."

Antonio nodded brightly and turned to me. "Let's go~"

Mask, who had not spoken till that moment, said, "Oh? He's not a snack?" in a mildly shocked tone.

Herakles and Pipsqueak spun around and stared at me, eyes wide. "A human?" asked Herakles in a voice that might have sounded more surprised if it wasn't so lazy.

I totally don't know what happened after that, but somehow I ended up with seven growling vampires surrounding me protectively.

I promptly facepalmed.

"I think you should leave now," said Francis with a smile.

Herakles reached out and gripped Mask's wrist. "Sounds...good."

Mask tore his eyes away from me, jumping to Antonio's face.

Then he grinned coldly and turned on his heel, wrapping a muscular arm around the shortie's shoulders and pulling him close as the trio departed.

"Well," said Gilbert in a growling tone, "fuck me sideways and call me a Russian, but I think we've got a tracker on our hands."

* * *

I had only ever seen Antonio with two faces: idiotic, and psychotic. I never thought her might have a _neurotic _persona back there somewhere too, taking up residence in his empty head, but apparently he did. This neurotic was different than what I was used to; instead of being spazzy, Antonio's was just cold and a little twitchy. As soon as the trio left, he practically teleported me to the Jeep and clicked me into the passenger seat before speeding away from the field.

"I - I've got to see Ludwig," I blurted out.

"No." Antonio's voice was hard, and his eye was twitching.

"He's my dad! I have to make sure -"

"That doesn't matter."

"Yes he does! What if he gets killed?"

Antonio swerved with a furious glance in my direction.

Damn. I hoped I could act half as well as Francis or Antonio as I opened the door, because I had one shot to convince the tracker that I was leaving Forks for good.

-x-x-x-

There was an uncomfortable twisting in my gut as Antonio drove us (in my truck, because the story was that I was driving back to Phoenix) to his place.

He turned and reached out with one arm, wrapping it around me and pulling me closer to him in the cab seat. "He'll forgive you."

I replied gloomily, "No, he won't. I said pretty much the same thing Mom did before he left." _I don't want to get stuck here like Mom!_

"Don't worry." repeated Antonio, kissing me again.

There was a loud thump in the back of my truck, and I jerked.

"That's just Gil." I turned and saw that it was indeed the albino; I could imagine the feral grin on his ghoulish face. "Liz is driving the car behind us," Antonio added.

We pulled into the long driveway, and Gilbert's growl upon entering was loud enough to hear over the car engine. Antonio, too, looked stiff as we neared the house; the tall figure of Herakles Karpusi was clearly visible in the entrance hall.

The Greek - I think that was what he was - looked bored as ever, and sighed as we entered. Francis explained, "He's not hostile."

Herakles smiled tiredly and said, "I just came...to warn you. I'm sick...of Sadiq and...his games, but...he is lethal. The...most skilled tracker...I've ever met. Even...more so that...Mei Huang."

Gilbert arched an eyebrow. "More than Mei...?"

Antonio elaborated. "She refused Yong-Soo."

With a sagely nod, Herakles continued. "And Gupta. Do not...underestimate him. He...is small, but...just as dangerous. Very...persuasive, so do not...let him trick you."

This time, Liz spoke. "Thank you, Herakles. A safe trip, and our regards to Kiku." With a final slow nod, the man turned and ambled out of the house.

"A tracker and a liar?" asked Arthur, biting his lip as he ushered us to the garage. "Well, that's certainly a distressing duo." Roderich and Nataliya were already in the garage, Francis carrying the bad I'd brought from my house.

"It's a far shot, but we may be able to trick him," said Roderich, throwing a jacket at Gilbert.

"Gilbert will wear Lovi's clothes and try to spread the scent in a direction opposite then where Lovi's going. But Antonio, you have to be with Gilbert, I'm guessing that Sadiq will have realized you'd never leave him," finished the Belorussian.

Antonio growled. "I'm not leaving Lovi."

Liz spoke up. "Roderich and I will take him to Phoenix, and the Bad Touch will lead the tracker north. Arthur and Nat can follow the Egyptian."

Oh, the small guy was _Egyptian_? How the flying fuck had they figured _that _out?

Antonio looked about to argue when Liz added, "Tony. We'll keep him safe."

It took him a while, but eventually Antonio agreed. He kissed me, eliciting whistles from Gilbert and giggles from the girls, before he watched me slide into the backseat of the Merc Liz planned to take.

I scowled and crossed my arms.

"Bye, _mi querido_," Antonio said quietly as Liz started the car and opened the garage.

"See ya, bastard," I responded, just as quietly.

_God,_ I thought as Liz pulled out of the driveway. _I fucking hate road trips._  
_

* * *

_

**A/N: **Ahahaha, sorry, it sucked :'DDD

Ummm, let's see...this question! Idek. Er...ummm, randomness! What's my favorite crack pairing? Hint hint, it's someone/Romano, and totally fricking random. Just guess, guess your way to success! /shot

Thank you for reading! :)


	10. bastard, come save me alreadyyyy

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Twilight.**

**A/N:** So ja, this one I wanted to get up fast as an apology for the last chapter taking three weeks. C:

And I've decided to start posting these fics on my LJ, the link to which can be found on my profile paaaage! L'honhonhon! /shot

I hope you like it, there's only one more chapter planned for after this ^.^ I hate cliffies, so -happy flail- y'all don't get any here! /shot

Um, I'm a dumbass and forgot to say that the prizefics are getting done. Stargazer, yours is gonna take a little longer because I have to do some history work, but it's funnn :D Lumoa, Pomo (who, by the way, did FANART. GO CHECK IT OUT, LINK ON MAH HOMEPAEGGG), yours are in the making! :)

* * *

**Chapter 9 - bastard, come save me already!**

The drive was long, painfully uneventful, blindingly sunny, and - I already said it was boring as fuck, right? plugged her iPod into the MP3 jack and blared pop music the whole ride, though Roderich looked a bit annoyed at her playlist. They held hands for most of the drive, like the sappy dorks they were.

I didn't think Ludwig would really have believed my story - that staying with Antonio would tie me to Forks, and who wanted to live in such a nasty town? - but he probably would have called Mom in Italy. I thought I should call him too, just to make sure he wasn't spazzing and calling the mafia and...well, whatever else hyperactive Italian parents did when their kids bounced.

"Hey, Mom, it's me...I'm not in Forks, duh, but I'm fine. Don't worry about coming down to Phoenix, God knows I don't need you spazzing out all over me."

Liz laughed lightly from the driver's seat and said, "I think your mom will still fly down."

"Probably." I slid my phone shut and dropped my head back against the seat. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost. We'll be staying in a hotel, to make your scent trail a bit less obvious," replied Roderich.

"Is Mask still following Antonio?" I asked, gripping the back of the front seats and pulling myself closer to hear better. "The tracker guy?"

"He is, but I don't know how long this will keep him away." Liz didn't sound too worried, really, but her brow furrowed.

The drive from Forks to Phoenix is around 25 hours if you drive at the speed limit. Liz, however, could hear police radios when they were close, and slowed from her 120-average to 60mph whenever we approached a cop car. I had no doubt at all that, even if we were pulled over, Liz or Roderich would be able to "convince" the cop to leave us alone.

There was absolutely nothing to do but sleep and text people, and after a few hours even that got boring. Liz pulled over several times for me to eat and whatever.

At some point, I fell asleep again, and Liz woke me up when we reached the hotel, some huge one with a nameplate too high up for me to read. I yawned as we got out, and smiled at the brightness outside.

"I bet you missed the sun," Liz giggled as she unlocked the rented room. The two of them had had me climb into the front and drive under the awning so they could get off and check out the suite without getting caught sparkling under the sun, and I'd parked before walking over to meet them. The sun felt great, especially after so much time spent under a cloud.

The room was large, with a long sofa in front of a coffee table and a television across the room. Liz and I flopped down onto the couch; I grabbed the remote and turned on the screen. "Top 20 okay?" I asked, turning on VH1.

I turned to look at Liz when she didn't respond. Roderich had flitted over and put a piece of paper on the table and a pen in Liz's randomly moving hand; she gripped it and started sketching out something onto the paper.

"The tracker," she gasped, "he figured it out..."

She was drawing something, but I for the life of me couldn't figure it out. "What the hell? Is she possessed?" I asked Roderich.

He shook his head. "Liz's visions are subjective. Different decisions have different outcomes. The tracker's new choices are leading him to a...is that a dance studio?"

Liz lifted her hand off the paper and I picked it up. It _was _a dance studio, and I recognized it. "It looks like the place I used to take classes at. The arch..."

"Is it here in Phoenix?" she asked.

"Yeah."

My cell phone rang right about then, and I slid it open. "Antonio?"

_"The tracker's heading down to Phoenix. Gilbert, Arthur and I are coming to meet you three. From there I'll take you somewhere, just us, until the others can take care of Sadiq."_ He sounded strained, but warm.

"A-and Ludwig?"

_"Francis and Nat went back to Forks to protect him. The Egyptian pretty much vanished."_

"How long will it take you to reach us?"

_"A few more hours, we're crossing into California right now."_

"Che... Antonio?"

_"Yes?"_

I swallowed and mumbled, "love you." Liz cooed happily.

There was silence, before I practically heard him grinning. _"I love you too, mi tomate!" _he sang, making kissy noises through the phone (actually, those were probably Gilbert). _"I'll see you soon!"_

I faintly heard Arthur screaming for Antonio to slow down, and Gilbert reminding him that since they were indestructible and could sense cops, nothing would happen.

I smiled a little - er, scowled, and hung up.

"That was so cute~!" sang Liz, glancing up from her phone. "Almost as cute as this! Come on, let's watch!" Before I could argue or ask what she wanted to watch - I was pretty sure it included two guys kissing or, knowing her, doing other certain unmentionables - she had jumped up and plugged her phone's USB cord into the DVD player. Dance music - a fast-paced tango - started up.

"H-hey, is that me and Antonio?"

* * *

My cell rang again several hours later, when Liz and Roderich were down in the lobby renting the suite for another couple of days. The ringing woke me up, but the caller ID said 'Home' so I answered.

"Fuck, I was sleeping!"

_"Lovi? Vee~ Lovi, where are you?"_

"Mom, damn it. Why'd you go home? I told you nothing was -"

_"Nope, nothing's wrong. Not yet, anyway." _

I blanched.

"F-fuck, how did you - _how _-"

_"My darling Gupta dropped by Forks High School. You'll find that he can be very persuasive."_

Swallowing hard, I gripped my phone tighter. "G-god, shit, don't hurt him!"

_"I think we can make a trade,"_ said Mask in an offhanded tone. _"Perhaps...you for your mother, as you call him?"_

"W-where do you want to meet?" It didn't take long for me to decide. Even when I ran with my mafia, Mom's safety was a top priority to me. Just 'cause I'm nice.

_"How about your old dance studio,"_ suggested the bastard on the other line. _"Tarantella, hmm? Well, come alone or the deal's off. I'll know if you bring anyone."_

I blinked. "You want me to get away from -"

_"From your friends, _evet_."*_

Wouldn't Liz see me making my decision to go? I didn't really know how her visions worked, so I couldn't make any assumptions, but it sounded like she would at least see where I was going.

_"It's your decision."_ There was a clicking as Mask hung up the phone.

I pulled my handgun out of my bag. From there, it took me a few minutes to get my stuff together, and then I dashed downstairs and into a taxi as fast as I could.

I'd had to look up the address of the studio up on my phone, but I gave it to the driver. He looked surprised at the address but drove off anyway in the needed direction.

"Place has been closed for years," he said with a slight chuckle. "Meant for demolition soon."

I smiled worriedly.

Well, I'm not an emo bastard, so I'd really never thought much about how I would die. Maybe a mafia hit, or something stupid like tripping out a fourth-story window. I didn't exactly want to die, either, but, well...dying in the place of someone I loved was probably a pretty good way to go out.

Unless Mask had plans of tearing me apart limb from limb. Then that would suck big time.

Fifteen minutes and forty-five bucks later, I climbed out of the taxi and slowly pushed open the studio door.

It was silent inside; neither Mask or my mother were anywhere in sight. I stepped in and called out for my mom tentatively.

"Lovi? Vee~ Lovi, where are you?"

"Mom! Are you okay?" I shouted, running towards the voice. "Mom?"

"Oh, _there _you are. Why are you in here?"

I froze, confused until I heard a response from another voice - a voice which was my own, maybe ten years ago judging from the higher pitch.

_"Dammit, Mamma! I hate dancing and my feet hurt!"_

_"Vee~ but you're so good at it!"_

_"So?"_

It was a fucking home video. Not my mother. A goddamned _recording_; that asshole had tricked me!

I gripped the gun harder as I heard a chuckle from somewhere behind me. Spinning, I gasped at the man standing there. He held a camcorder in one hand.

I wished he had come in a...a tutu...or...something. Would've at least given me a laugh before I kicked the bucket.

But noooo. Not only was the douche an assassin, but he had to dress like one too. Bastard.

"Oh, you came," he crooned. I saw a red light on the camera blinking as he zoomed, probably onto my face. "I didn't know if my trick would work, but looks like it did~"

"Bastard!" I shrieked, lifting the gun and firing. The bullet cracked into his marble skin, forming a small crater that apparently didn't bother him because he just growled and reached up to yank the metal out. The crater in his throat kind of popped back up, and I aimed to shoot him again.

He moved so fast, vanishing and reappearing right in front of me. He grabbed the gun and made to crunch it when I shot a hole clean through his palm.

Again, he didn't seem to be hurt and the telltale cracking of his skin reforming itself around the gape (which I assumed must have been pretty damn annoying to have in your palm) resounded in half a second, but he hissed as I tried running.

It wasn't as if I got far. He jumped in front of me and backhanded me hard enough to send me slamming into a pillar across the room. My head cracked against the stone and I felt blood dripping down my temple.

Icy hands grabbed my shoulders and flipped me over.

"Aw, how sad," Mask snickered, teeth bared in a feral grin and crimson eyes glittering with malice. "Does it hurt?"

"Fuck yes, it does," I choked through gritted teeth.

"Then tell your dear Antonio how much!" he cackled.

I sputtered. "He's not _'my dear' _anything!"

"Sure he's not."

There was a loud cracking as Mask stomped on my knee. I've got such a high pain tolerance that I didn't even shriek. My leg, when I felt composed enough to glance at it, was bent in an unnatural position at the knee. I felt more pain stab up my thigh.

It hurt like a bitch, and I slammed my fist against the ground. I could taste blood in my mouth from biting my tongue so hard. "F-fuck!"

"Tell him," the tanned vampire said with a barking laugh. He ground my knee against the floor and I whimpered in pain. "Tell him!"

Something connected with his face, and sent the bastard flying across the room. I looked up - and it was raining on my face, which was why everything was so hazy. But Antonio's face, blurry or not, was a welcome sight. And that's only because I'd spent the last few minutes with Mask's ugly face, not because Antonio was insanely gorgeous.

"Took you long enough, bastard," I sniffled. He crouched in front of me, reaching out and kissing my forehead.

"I'm sorry, Lovi," he said with a strained smile, standing and turning to face the other vampire. "But let me just finish up, okay?"

"Don't get his hopes up, Antonio," laughed the brunet across the room. Mask's mask had shattered from the impact, revealing a strong nose and sculpted face behind it. He was in an offensive position, legs bent at the knees and his body crouched over enough to allow him fast movement. Antonio stood straight and proud, fingers twitching slightly and a mad grin stretching across his face. I shuddered; it was the expression he'd worn when he'd sav - er, stopped me from beating those thugs half to hell, but more violent.

The two flew towards each other at about the same time, and I swear to God I expected nastily animated Japanese words to pop up out of their attacks. Nothing happened, of course, except for some early demolition, until Maskless kicked Antonio into a window before grabbing me and hurling me into a mirror. Why was this guy so fucking violent?

I was a bit disoriented and didn't feel the giant sliver of mirror digging into my thigh until I tried to move. Some old biology lesson told me to leave the glass where it was, stoppering the blood flow albeit being pretty damn painful. Before Antonio could jump down from where he was, Maskless had grabbed my wrist and raised my arm, staring straight at Antonio before biting down.

It didn't hurt much more than, like, getting pricked by a needle, and I pulled my arm back to me. Antonio shouted, "No!" and then the pain hit me like a tidal wave, fire spreading from the bloodied bite mark on my arm. It felt like I was holding my arm above a candle, except that the candle temperature was closer to molten silver than burning wick.

I shrieked and waved my arm frantically. If it were an actual blaze, the fire would've gone out; since it was pain spreading through my blood, not much happened. If anything, the pain spread faster.

And yeah, it was a bit preoccupying. I didn't notice when Liz, Roderich, Gilbert and the doc arrived, or when Liz held me down to yank the glass skewer out of my thigh. I was more than a little pissed when I realized that I'd missed the whole killing scene. At some point, Antonio had pinned Maskless down long enough to tear his arm off, and then the others had come. After tying a tourniquet with her belt, Liz ran over to Roderich and Gilbert, while Antonio skidded to a stop in front of me. His shirt was ripped beyond repair and he looked a little worse for wear, but probably not nearly as bad as me.

"Lovi!" he muttered, taking my arm and lifting it to examine the bite. "He bit you?"

"N-no shit!" I choked out. "B-burning!"

"It's the venom," I could hear the doc saying. "Suck it out, if you don't want your boytoy to become one of us."

I squeezed my eyes shut in pain, and faintly heard Antonio whispering to me. Then I felt icy lips on my forearm, and a strange pulling sensation before I blacked out.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, it was to the annoying beeping of a hospital respirator.

My mother's worried face was the first thing I saw, though, and I jerked back, regretting the action almost immediately. That uselessly broken leg still hurt like nothing else.

"L-Lovi!" he bawled, reaching up to rub at the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "Vee! I-I w-was so w-w-worried! D-don't you ever, _ever _do that to me again!"

I smiled a little, wincing at the pain. "I'm sorry, Mom..."

He sighed and reached out to stroke my face, sniffling as he did so. "You're okay, though?"

"Yeah." But... "What happened?"

Mom blinked in shock. "You don't remember?"

I shook my head.

"W-well...you showed the famous clumsy Vargas nature, vee. You were in a hotel here, and went over to see Antonio and Doctor Kirkland, and you tripped! Down two flights of stairs, out a window, and onto a rose bush, vee..."

Giving myself a once-over, I decided that I certainly looked like I'd gone through that. I remembered quite clearly, though, the raging fire and the stench of burning vampire remains; I could remember the blistering pain from the venom, and the look on Antonio's face when he found me.

I had asked Mom to go get Ludwig, who was in the cafeteria. I wanted to apologize for what I'd said, and I also wanted to take the time to speak to Antonio.

Antonio had entered as Mom left, in clean clothes and with a cheery smile that slipped a little as he entered the hospital room. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching with one hand to cup my cheek as he leaned in to kiss me. "I thought..."

I scoffed. "Yeah right. You don't think, and it's not like you were worried. Liz would've seen me alive."

He laughed, and no, I did _not_ smile at the sound! "She did, but her visions can change..."

I groaned, and my hand covered his. Damn gremlins. "Italians are resilient, don't you know?"

"But what if you hadn't survived? I was so afraid that we were too late..."

"Well, you weren't," I replied. "So don't think about what could have happened. Be useful and go get me something to eat."

Antonio grinned, that energetic beam back one hundred percent, and leaned in to kiss me.

* * *

**A/N: **OH MAI DEAR LORD UP HIGH, CAN YOU BELIEVE I'M ALMOST DONE? There's an epilogue, and then a week or so's time to plan out the New Moon parody, the first chapter of which can be expected Sunday morning.

Thank you guys so much for reading ; ;

And thank you to Lily Winterwood, baby doll, you've saved my life so damn much! Guys, be dears and go read her EPIC Hetalia/Harry Potter crossover, "Blurring House Lines". It's SO GODDAMN GOOD.

Thanks again! :'D


	11. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: Nope~ don't own the cookie brands, either.**

**A/N: **OH MAN I'M SO SORRY THAT I'M SO LATE, AND SUCH A SHORT EPILOGUE LOL

But here ya go, the epilogue for Flashlight! This is the first multi-chapter fic I've completed o,e even though it ain't yet done. The sequel should be up Sunday afternoon or so, maybe Monday if I'm unlucky. ^.^

And OH MY GOD THANK YOU ALL FOR FOLLOWING THIS WHOLE STORY. EVERY SINGLE REVIEW, ALERT, AND FAVORITE MADE ME WANT TO CRAWL OUT YOUR COMPUTER LIKE SADAKO AND GLOMP Y'ALL TO DEATH!

This version is unbeta-ed. I'll update it as soon as possible with the edited version! :)

* * *

**I'd say THE END, but it probably isn't**

For days after, I had to lie in that hospital bed. Arthur had encouraged the hospital to let him take over my well-being; he moved me up to the Seattle hospital as soon as I was stable enough, and then to Forks from there.

Mom returned to Venice the same day I went back up to Washington; Ludwig had forgiven me (if his awkward hug _which I totally didn't reciprocate and tear three stitches on my my side for _meant anything). Pipsqueak was nowhere to be seen, Mask was dead, and life was pretty damn good.

...but not really, because, you know, my leg was still broken and hurting like a _bitch_.

And Antonio, too. He spent every possible moment with me, just sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed and staring with a creepy-ass _I'M GONNA RAPE YOU NOWWWW _smile on his face.

Mom couldn't fathom why I wanted to stay in such a gloomy town...until he saw Antonio. "Lovi, vee...make sure you're sure you don't want to come with me?" he asked again anyway.

"Yeah," I'd said, and I saw Antonio's smile widen even as he pretended to siesta on the couch.

Then Mom leaned in close and beamed, "And good job! GIve me some pretty gandbabies, vee?"

Antonio barely stifled his laugh - not like my indignant sputter helped, because I totally didn't _make_ an indignant sputter. When Mom was gone, I threw a fork at Antonio's head.

* * *

The doom and gloom of Forks had become strangely homey to me. When I returned, Liz bounded up to me and exclaimed that, since March 17th had come and passed while I was in the hospita, we'd have a party as soon as I was able to wear a dress properly.

Why does everyone like shoving me in dresses?

I was released from the hospital a little later, with a cast still around my leg and a shiny pair of crutches which I named _Chips Ahoy _and _Oreo_, Antonio promptly "decorated" with tomato stickers. But I could walk, and that was a fair improvement; Ludwig helped me back into the house and gruffly offered dinner. We ate and then I limped upstairs, exhausted and totally not elated to see Antonio waiting by the window for me, happy grin on his face.

Psh. No.

While we were lying in bed and dreading the party - which, knowing Liz, was already completely planned and just waiting on my bright red cast - I asked Antonio, "Hey, do you plan on changing me?"

He blinked and his brow furrowed in thought. "I..."

"Because I don't know about _your_ kinks, but mine certainly don't involve someone who looks like a grandpa."

Antonio laughed, wrapping his arms tighter around me and pulling me close. "I'd love you anyway~"

"No, you wouldn't," I scoffed, rolling over and facing him. His gold eyes were wide and shocked, and he reached up to tap my nose lightly.

"Why -" he began.

I'm going to die, you know."

Staring at me pensively - hah! _Pensively_, on _Antonio_? Yeah, right -for a second, Antonio sighed softy and cupped my cheeks, tracing the cheekbones with his thumbs.

"Why didn't you change me?" I asked quietly.

"That...this life isn't as wonderful as you think, Lovi," he smiled sadly. "I know you'll die, but -"

"But what?" I pressed. "If you'd left the venom, I would be one of you by now. You wouldn't have to see me dying."

"Dying?" The way his eyes bugged out was pretty damn funny, and I coughed to cover my snicker.

"Every day, every minute, I get closer," I muttered.

Now he looked irritated. "Lovi! You had me worried!"

"I..." swallowing, I paused. God, his sappiness was robbing off on me like glitter glue. "I love you, and -:

He cut me off, pressing a finger to my lips. "Then that's enough." Antonio leaned in and kissed me.

"For now," I scowled and huffed as he shifted his affections to my jaw and throat.

I felt him smiling against my collarbone.

* * *

**A/N:** AND WITH THAT CRAPPY ENDING, IT'S DONE.

HOLY SHIT.

Prizefic for 300th reviewer (if we reach that, which would be TOTALLY awesome). No question this time, sorry :(

Thank you all again for reading, and watch out for the sequel!


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